


Bring Me Water, Bring Me Rain

by JD_Riley



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Detectives, Developing Relationship, Graphic Description of Corpses, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Murder, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Psychological Torture, Rape, Slow Burn, Thriller, Torture, past trauma, police drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-30 19:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10170335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: Working the first serial case the county's ever had during its worst drought in history, Det. Keegan Dormer finds himself forced by the commissioner to cooperate with an "expert" whose main talent is getting the fairer dynamics to talk.  While working the gruesome scenes and gritty interviews, the answer to Keegan's question of "What's he got that I don't?" slowly becomes increasingly apparent and Keegan grows ever more desperate as the drought continues unabated.





	1. Chapter 1

The heat came in waves up from the tinted orange dirt of the narrow road leading to the railroad crossing. The sun was relentless and seemed to almost become personified by the dull whine of distant cicadas as their cry warbled through the dry leaves of the trees that lined the river. The river, if one could call it that anymore, wound through the landscape, not much more than a dry, cracked scar on a drought-stricken plain. Dust devils routinely whipped their way across the hard packed dirt of the exposed riverbed and whirled what they could find into a crazed frenzy of twisting wind until they became too unstable and they disappeared into nothing as if having never existed at all.

Dust swirled over the rails and Keegan Dormer's shoes as he stood with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit pants. It was hot enough that he was wearing his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and he was convinced that it was only going to get hotter. Summer had been hard and it was only mid-June. The rails beneath his feet must have been blistering, their metallic shine uncomfortable to view even with his sunglasses over his eyes.

The strong voice of the commissioner shocked him a little. He hadn't expected her. This was _his_ investigation, after all. He narrowed his eyes behind his shades while she walked up the small hill to the crossing.

“Detective,” she greeted.

“Commissioner.”

She didn't say anything else at first and wandered away from him to assess the scene. He felt a little stupid knowing she was here now, able to watch everything he was doing. Her commanding scent was caught by the wind and the mere whiff of it he was exposed to set him on edge. If she was thinking critically about his performance on this case, he was going to be a very unhappy man. Her gaze was focused on what was left of their victim—the fifth. This was the first serial killer this county had ever seen and, as their best detective, Keegan had drawn the straw. There was precious little he could have done to prevent the death but the knowledge didn't comfort him. From the way the commissioner was eying the remains, it didn't comfort her either.

He turned toward her when she returned, straightening her tie and smoothing her silk vest. Her silky grayish hair was pulled to a tight bun on the top of her head and sweat glistened over her brow. Her eyes were stern and her voice sterner. “He's getting bolder.”

“And more brutal,” he agreed. “The lab boys haven't found any discernible DNA evidence yet. He's still wearing condoms and covering his tracks.”

“He stinks,” she spat with her delicate nose wrinkled.

They stood together while they watched the crime lab boys work. The end of his tie below the shining gold clip fluttered while a dust devil formed in the middle of the orange road. There had been no head on the body. None of them had retained their head. Sometimes, on a sweep of the area, they would be lucky enough to find a few limbs buried under loose dirt or branches.

_Like a sick scavenger hunt._

He was a sexual sadist probably triggered by some kind of strong rejection—it didn't take a lot of guessing to come up with that sort of profile, anyway. The victims were similar and all of them had been brutally assaulted. Their bodies had been dismembered post-mortem, but the brutal and sloppy removal of their intestines—that had been while they were still living. Sometimes when they were found, the entrails were still half inside, spilling from the torso into the dry heat of a Pennsylvania summer. Sometimes they were gone.

He fiddled with his sunglasses, pulling them from his nose and wiping the sweat from the bridge. She was waiting for him to explain what he was going to do next. She already knew that but he knew that's what she wanted so he complied, feeling dumb.

“Once the reports come back, I'm hoping there's a break in here. This guy's starting to piss me off.”

“Any luck with victimology?”

“What's there to know?”

“They're all Omegas,” she stated flatly. “There's something to work with right there.”

“Yeah. And you read the reports. I interviewed all the bartenders for the bars they hang around but you know as well as I do that nobody thinks its weird to find an Omega getting manhandled. Especially after a few drinks.”  
“And the patrons?”

“They don't remember.”

She crossed her arms and her mouth flattened into a straight line, her lips almost invisible. He didn't like this look. It was the expression she gave when she was contemplating making a decision that was going to anger someone. The only possibility here was him and the mere idea of it started a fire in his blood.

He protested before she'd even spoken again. “Listen, Blake,” he argued with her first name, a weakness for her, “You're thinking about making my life harder. Don't. This investigation is going to require a break. It hasn't come yet. These poor bastards haven't died for nothing. The evidence will speak. It always does.”

She narrowed her eyes but smiled a lopsided grin and shook her head. “There have been five victims of the same killer. I've got a friend from the city who can help us. He owes me a favor and he's for hire. You could learn a lot from him. He's no young buck and he's been working cases a long time. I'm gonna call him. He'll at the very least have some ideas for your investigation. At the most, he'll follow you around and get the Omegas to talk.”

“Oh yeah?” He could feel his heart burning. “What's he got that I don't?”

She shrugged. “Some _je ne sais quoi_ , I guess,” she replied. “Don't underestimate him, Keegan. He's solved more murders than you'll see in your lifetime.”

She was walking away when he asked loudly, “Is that what you came here for? To emasculate me?”

“Is that what I did?” she laughed. “Just wait. I've got much more where that came from. It only gets worse for you, Keegan. Don't you dare forget it.”

He watched her until she got into her pearl Enclave and drove away, kicking up dust as it went. He whispered into the swirling wind while another dust devil whirled a ways down the tracks and sweat trickled over his temple.

“I won't.”

He waited until the body was zipped up and headed to the morgue before he got in his car and rolled down all the windows, suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of sweat on the back of his neck. The shush of the wind through the withered leaves above his car drowned out his thoughts, leaving him with a blankness that was practically overwhelming. The drought was oppressive. The heat was making everyone a little bit crazy. Toss in a serial killer out raping and gutting Omegas and you had a population on the edge.

His drive back to the office was interrupted only by a casual swing past the nearest Sheetz and when he walked in with his blue slushie firmly in hand, he was given one of the saddest looks by the young receptionist.

“You didn't bring me one?” Her pleading eyes held an actual sadness. She had, actually, been hoping he'd decide to date her. Every perceived slight was a tragedy for her. It had to have been exhausting for her to pursue him so hard but he'd been fairly adamant in his refusals. He wasn't sure what she could get out of these small attempts if her past schemes had failed. Her most desperate lure had been one that plenty of Omegas had deigned to utilize, making sure to come to work and pass him umpteen times while suffering madly in heat in an attempt to appeal to his base desires. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for her—he wasn't about to lose all his self control outside of an honest-to-god rut. He wasn't a teenager anymore. It would take a bit more than a whiff of pheromones to drive him wild.

“Sorry Lena,” he grinned. “Only had so much cash on me.” He expertly avoided her retort by spinning into his nicely air conditioned office and shutting the door with his foot, collapsing into his swivel chair and taking a huge sip of his slushie.

There were reports and files on his desk delivered from the lab so he opened them, perusing the text and the x-rays of the fourth victim. So far there was plenty of information but not enough to do more than create a profile that could have included just about every Alpha in the county. It wasn't unusual, after all, for Omegas to be raped while in heat and the evidence suggested that this was most likely the case. Their killer was out hunting down male Omegas of any age who were in heat. While many ruts were considered by many to be violent and, in some cases, overly so, most didn't end in the disembowelment of the mate in question.

He put his elbow on the smooth wooden surface of his desk and let his forehead fall into his hand. He had names for only two of the victims. He felt stupid already and Blake was going to bring in some kind of _professional_ who was going to stomp all over his investigation and all over his toes while he was at it. He felt his hand form a fist and to prevent that familiar territorial rage, he unclenched and took another sip of his slushie.

“Knock knock.”

He glanced up to the door and waved Katie Warwick in, inviting her to do what she always did and sit on his desk. She complied, her long brown hair dangling in a pony over her shoulder as her body twisted so she could snoop into his reports.

“I heard Blake talking to some guy on the phone an hour ago about your case. Sounds like you're in trouble,” she teased.

“Stuff it,” he sighed, leaning back in the chair. “I don't see you with a serial case.”

“I've got nothing to prove here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“He's sounds like a heavyweight.” She was grinning. She'd seen enough of Keegan's pride to be ready for the fall and she was going to relish it more than anyone else when it came.

_Bitch._

“I'll meet him,” he ground out. “Apparently, he's got a magic wand for making Omegas talk.”

“I don't have much of a problem with that. If you needed help, you should have asked me. I'm sure all those precious little Omegas didn't feel like talking to the big, scary detective when he came asking about their friend.” She made her lips into a pout and he scoffed at her. He couldn't bring himself to scoff at her next words. “Maybe you should bring Lena with you.”

“Fuck off, Warwick.”

She got off his desk and headed for the door. “Just a suggestion. It would take the edge off your scent at least.” She shrugged and shut his door a little too hard when she left.

He didn't need the Omegas to talk. He relied on evidence and logic for cases. The human element was flawed and he'd been lied to too many times to consider any testimony infallible. Real life wasn't a cute murder mystery that could be solved by someone's cat tipping someone into a confession. Real life was a bunch of poor sods who'd been taken advantage of during their heat and gutted while still alive, probably during the careless throes of desperate fucking in some back alley or crack house somewhere. Real life was finding their rutted and dismembered torsos strewn over the dusty countryside, discarded along railroad tracks or the dry, scorched riverbed.

Real life was fucking savage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate the interest. Please note that this is slow-burn and as these characters are not from any fandom, I doubly appreciate that interest. See you next update.


	2. Chapter 2

When Blake had asked him to come down, and that she would make it worth his while to do so, he'd been slathering a good bit of mayo onto a turkey sandwich and contemplating a nice, long vacation. He'd just wrapped up a double homicide and he was fairly confident that his penchant for making trouble was at an all-time high. It wasn't the right time for an investigation anywhere outside Philadelphia.

But it was Blake. He pushed his white framed glasses up his nose and stared out his office window at the clouds forming on the horizon. They would bring no rain, despite their heavy gray appearance. There was always that thin glimmer of hope, he supposed, but it simply wasn't in the cards. It hadn't rained since early March and even then, it wasn't _rain_. It had been an ice storm that had produced massive outages and made the transformers on the electrical poles hum with rampant, dangerous electricity.

He could feel the same hum now, vibrating beneath the air conditioning, inside the homes and hearts of the city. Rolling black-outs that maintained energy efficiency had made life a tad bit harder, introducing a sweltering and relentless heat that could drive one wild if the circumstances were right. The hum lessened at night but only due to the absence of that cruel sun—the heat stayed. And in some cases, he thought wryly, it stayed and stayed and stayed.

She'd asked him. She hadn't tried to command him. She'd known that it wouldn't have worked, his innate sense for the authority of Alphas was overwhelmed by his learned and honed stubbornness. He would have told her to go fuck herself and he would've been meaner about it than she would have expected. They were friends, after all. He could get away with it.

Cyrus watched the wind pick up while the clouds moved toward the sun. He could practically sense the hope that the city had that they would block out the maddening rays and give temporary relief to those without power. He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. The next train to Lancaster was in an hour and Blake was going to meet him when he arrived. He was still wondering why he'd said yes. Even when his secretary came in with the papers and reports the commissioner had faxed, he was still contemplating calling her back and telling her that something urgent had come up.

The clouds moved over the sun and he felt his body let go of a small sigh. He recognized that it was part of a collective. A sigh had come up from the depths of the whole city and he was finally released from his guard by the window. He gently loosened his tie and stuffed the reports in his briefcase. There would be plenty of time read them while he was on the train and plenty of time to discuss them when he'd found himself with Blake.

His train wasn't late on arrival but it was delayed in leaving, allowing him his assumed “plenty” of time to read through the files he'd been sent while he sat trapped at the 30th Street Station. The photos were grim and he made certain that he was not graced with a seatmate so that he wouldn't have to be troubled by an attempt to hide them. All of the autopsy reports were engaging and thorough but almost aggressively similar. His lips pursed while he examined the behavioral profile that had been suggested by the lead detective. He let out a puff of air from his nose and closed the report, staring out the small train window as the mechanical beast lurched into gear.

Halfway through his train ride he'd dozed and his short snippets of dreams were quite pleasant. He felt less apprehensive about taking on another case so close on the heels of his previous, but as the minutes dwindled toward seeing his old friend, those misgivings had their way of lodging themselves back where they had been comfortable. He felt that odd nervousness in his gut that he'd been keen to pay attention to through his life. The sometimes insistent instinctual sign that he was about to find something he wouldn't like very much. The time before this, he'd walked into the scene of a suicide.

Blake's soft knowing smile met him while he got off the train and he knew what she was looking at.

“You look like you haven't slept for a year,” she chided softly, opening her arms.

He moved between them and let her hold him gently. It had been a long time since he'd smelled her undemanding scent and he let her lightly and discreetly breathe him in while she held him. He murmured to her when she reluctantly pulled from him, “I just got off another case. Perp took care of the details for us so there'll be no trial. Conner can handle the rest of the paperwork so I'm all yours until you don't need me anymore.”

“You always manage to get the guys who off themselves so you don't have to sit in a stuffy courtroom,” she snickered. “Some guys have all the luck.”

“Luck,” he repeated, unsure if the term could have been apt or not. He took her hand in his and they walked together toward the station exit and Blake's Buick. When his luggage was in the back and they were seated, he muttered, “What's new around here? Other than your killer?”

“Nothing much.” She turned off down the road. “It's hot as Hell but you know that. The Delaware's gotta be just as dry as the Susquehanna.”

“Like a desert. You can see the fish flopping in the puddles from my office.”

She laughed, the sound like pretty tinkling bells. “Please, Cyrus. From that height? Tell me you looked at the faxes I sent.”

“I think you've got a serious problem,” he replied.

Her soft smile disappeared slowly and he could see the worry in her expression as she drove. “I knew you were going to say that. I had to call you. They're all Omegas. There's this untapped resource and I just don't have the right tool to tap it. There's so much about that community we're blocked off from.” Her fingers curled around the steering wheel hard enough that her knuckles faded to white. “I need you, Cyrus. Someone knows something. Someone saw something. There's someone out there who's too scared to talk to us, who doesn't trust us to do the right thing. They'll trust you. I know they will.”

“Will your lead detective?”

It was the question he knew would make her pause. She probably hadn't even considered the idea that such a bond could make or break an investigation. The department in Philly had plenty of detectives who would work with him, who graciously accepted him into their investigations and loved his unique ability to squeeze himself into places detectives were often closed from. But this place? A rising star on his path toward solving the first ever serial case in the county? The thought could make him scoff. Trust wasn't something that could be forced and, despite the way Blake saw it, neither was respect. They would be hard won and Cyrus wasn't certain he had the amount of stamina left in him to go toe to toe with a stubborn Alpha.

“He'll do what I say,” she said flatly.

“I see,” he smiled. She never changed, his Blake.

She pulled into her driveway and she brought him inside, explaining that dinner was most likely going to be his favorite. She had been planning to order Thai take-out and wrap them both up in a quilt to watch a movie.

“I thought you were over trying to romance me,” Cyrus chuckled while she pulled a blanket from her closet.

“Over? You? Please, Cyrus, I couldn't be over you if I were dead. I'd haunt you just to fuck you.” Her dry delivery amused him to no end and he made himself at home on her couch while she called in their order. She leaned over the back of the couch, pulling the pins from her bun and letting that beautiful silvery hair fall over his shoulder. “On an actually prudent note,” she mentioned, “I should probably make sure the office doesn't get into too much of a tizzy when you come in with me tomorrow.”

“Oh,” he laughed, waving his hand up, “Don't worry about that. I've handled worse.”

“You're going to smell like me anyway,” she reminded him.

“You can cuddle me, if that's what you're asking,” he rolled his eyes. “What kind of monster would I be to deny you that?” He allowed her to snuggle next to him and after dinner, while an old black and white film played through the darkness, he ran his fingers through her silken hair and asked himself the same question he'd wondered nearly his whole life.

_Why can't they all be like you, Blake?_

As if the universe was to prove a point, he awoke to the thrilling scent of sausage cooking and when he eased himself up to peer over the back of the couch, his favorite friend was carefully flipping his over easy eggs in her nonstick pan, the tip of her tongue carelessly poked from the side of her lips. He pushed his glasses up with his fingers to rub his eyes underneath them and groaned, unable to bring himself to move.

“You have _got_ to be sore from sleeping the way you were,” she stated while she made up his plate with home fries, sausage, and those perfectly over easy eggs.

“Opposite,” he muttered, sinking down into the cushions and gathering together the quilt where it had touched Blake as she slept. He pushed his nose into the fabric and inhaled intimately.

“Oh yeah, I'd forgotten his high majesty doesn't need to sleep.” She paused. “Hey. If you're going to be that way you can either marry me or work for me full time. Now get your ass up and some breakfast in your stomach. I want to take you to the latest dump site this morning before you meet Keegan.”

“The lead?” he asked as he got up and stretched.

“Keegan Dormer. He's been with me about three years. I generally make it a point to hire Betas but when a star like Keegan comes along, it's worth it to face a little opposition now and again.” She rolled her eyes.

“He's your only?”

“No,” she shrugged. “He's my cockiest. He's also my youngest.”

“Ah.” He wolfed down his breakfast while she spoke.

“I can't take over his investigation,” she continued, “But I can force him to work with you. He's not going to like it but I already told him it was happening so he's not going to be blind-sided when you show up. I know I don't really need to say this, Cyrus, but _don't_ let him bully you.”

“I'm covered in your stink, he'd be a fool to bully me.”

“You know that doesn't stop some of them.”

He knew. Usually he wasn't scented at all on jobs but hers would give him an edge and she knew that. He didn't have to have quite the amount of mental fortitude he would have needed had she not snuggled against him and rubbed her scent all over him the previous night. But smelling like her or not, it was still going to be a struggle.

“Besides,” she grinned, “I know you like my _stink_.”

“Yeah,” he grinned back. “As if.”

After his breakfast, he was standing with her in the blistering sun a few miles away with his hand curled above his brow line. The rails were just ever-so-slightly ringing under his athletic sneakers and he had the vague thought that he was going to have to move in a few minutes. A train was coming. He could barely see the slight sun bleached stains on the rocks beside the rails where blood had spilled only a few days before and his eyes searched the tracks for anything else, any clues or messages that popped into his mind. The lab collectors had missed nothing. He put his hands on his hips and stood with his feet apart, staring down at where the body had lay.

“The fifth?” he asked, easing a finger into the neckline of his black spandex t-shirt to bring it away from his skin.

“The fifth,” she answered. “Any ideas?”

“A few. You're not going to like them. I'd like to meet your detective.”

“As you wish,” she replied, leading him back toward the car.

The train rumbled by as he walked away, the gust from its arrival swirling the orange dirt from the road into small whirlwinds that licked at his calves and rustled through the long grasses and weeds that grew by the rails. The heavy thundering roll of the engine filled Cyrus's heart and displaced that steady hum that he'd felt in the city's silver heat. There was something horrific beneath the flesh of this countryside, he thought. Vivisection was imminent and no doubt painful. He shuddered and closed the door to the Buick.

The rumbling inside him refused to cease.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I appreciate the interest. Hopefully I haven't bored anyone to tears quite yet. As I actually have a broken wrist and am writing this with one finger (on my left hand) I am assuming at this point I'm aiming for 10-15 chapters at roughly 2000 to 2500 words per chapter. And graphic nasty rape close to the end because detective drama. If that's not your deal, you can always skip that chapter (I'll have a warning) and move toward the cute bonding and loving desperate sex between consenting partners after that. See you next time.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing that Keegan noticed was the way the commissioner's scent hung over the newcomer like an oppressive pall, obscuring his own scent with hers and mixing up Keegan's efforts to place him. It wasn't as if his manners would be any different, but he liked to at least know what he was dealing with. He wanted to know how aggressive his competition was. His name was Cyrus, the commissioner had said, and he was going to get Keegan into those elusive spaces where Alphas were feared and Omegas ruled the roost. At least that was what she had said. He remained skeptical. Cyrus's expression was guarded but relaxed and faded purple rings were barely hidden by the slope of his thick-rimmed white glasses. His hair was a mix of white and black and in some places the two were so blended that it gave the illusion of a sharp steely gray.

“I read your report.” Cyrus sat back in the office chair in the conference room where the three of them were seated together and pulled the folder out of his briefcase. Despite the briefcase, the rest of him wasn't as professional. He looked better suited toward a day at the gym, his feet in a set of Nikes and the rest of him in clingy black sportswear. If Keegan was being honest with himself, he looked damn comfortable and the detective was jealous as hell. Cyrus continued, opening the file and clearing his throat. “You make a good argument for the profile and I agree with most of it. This is most likely a male Alpha with a traumatic past and a fairly innocuous...or what _should_ have been an innocuous trigger point. What I don't agree with is that these are his only murders.”

Keegan shifted in his seat. “Is that right?”

“That's right. The autopsy reports are incredibly similar. That's not rare for a serial case but it's rare for the _first_ of the cases in a serial case. If these were the first, you'd see evidence that he was altering his methods, seeing what he liked or didn't like. I'm suggesting that there are either bodies from other counties from this same killer or there are bodies undiscovered from this killer still hidden. These bodies turning up in easily found places could suggest that he's seeking attention from authorities or...”

“Or?” Keegan leaned forward.

“Or he wants to be caught.”

Keegan let out a small chuckle. The idea seemed preposterous to him. Nobody wanted to be caught. “What if he's just sloppy?”

Cyrus shrugged, “That is always a possibility. Eventually they get cocky. Just like everyone else.”

He couldn't help but take that as a personal barb. He was sure that the commissioner had been gossiping and, considering the extent of her scent all over him, they'd probably been discussing the case over a few of her pillows. His upper lip curled for just a moment and a sharp pang of annoyance made its way through his chest. He let the wave of emotion slide over him and chose not to address it. “What's your secret, Detective?” he asked. “How do you not get cocky?”

Cyrus gave an infuriating little smile. “No secret. I'm just as guilty. As for your interviews, as the commissioner has noted, the interactions with the Omegas in direct relation to the two known victims and the interactions with the bar employees at...” he lifted his glasses and examined one of the reports, his eyebrows lifting at the name, “Tiger Play...are noticeably stunted and through no fault of your own. If you would like to accompany me to the locations in order to gain some more traction in that regard, you are most definitely invited. I'll be making my rounds to those locations tomorrow.”

Keegan felt his guts squeeze. “You're not going anywhere without me. This is _my_ investigation.” The tone was distinctly commanding and his annoyance was only amplified by the way Cyrus folded his hands on the conference table's surface and continued eye contact in a mild but relentless manner. “I will not have you wandering around putting your name all over it and fucking it up.”

“Keegan,” the commissioner warned, her eyes flashing with challenge.

Cyrus put out his finger gently to stop Blake from her admonishment. His eyes were still boring into him, a soft but horrible invisible touch. “I understand, Detective Dormer. I won't be in your way. If it pleases the commissioner, we will both conduct interviews tomorrow. Together. In the hopes that we can find a witness.”

Keegan hissed across the table, his shoulders squared and his blood hot. “This is a waste of my time. If the Omegas at the bar were even remotely interested in helping themselves or their communities then they would have told me what I wanted from the get-go. If they tell me they didn't see anything, then I'm guessing that what they saw was pretty normal for that night. They wave themselves around and get Alphas fired up so they can get fucked and get paid. It's not unreasonable to find a heat-addled Omega with a few bruises and a sore ass who happened to get snagged in the street. They know that and I know that. And they tell me zilch when it happens.”

Cyrus was patient, letting him rant until he was finished, his eyes somehow more intense and penetrating. Keegan knew it was stupid but just from that gaze he felt an overwhelming sense of hideous shame.

With a calm and easy tone, Cyrus's rebuttal was devastating. “They don't like being blamed for what happens to them. No more than you or I. And that's all they see when you come at them with your questions. They see blame in your eyes and hear it in your voice. Things like this are easy for you to say, Detective. But they're not easy to live.” He stood, finally breaking that steady vexing gaze and mentioning offhandedly, “I'm going to tour the other dump sites today and pay a visit to the morgue. If you'd like to discuss more of the case tonight, I'll treat you to dinner.” He addressed the commissioner. “Blake, be sure to give him one of my business cards so he can text me.”

The door closed behind him and Keegan stared at the commissioner with his eyes wide and his gut on fire. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked with at least a trace of humor.

Blake grinned and tossed a business card at him. “He's a real treat,” she said. “He's gonna run right over you, boy, and don't you think he won't. I don't want to hear a single word about how rude he is to you. You just earned every bit of snark he's got with the crap you pulled right here.”

“You really are going to saddle me with your fuck-buddy.”

“Watch it, Keegan,” she growled while she stood. “You are on a whole lot of thin ice here and I sure as hell hope you recognize it.”

The urge to retort was strong but he successfully held back and sat like a toddler in time-out while she left, waiting for her to be out of earshot before he banged the top of the table with his fist. He'd never met someone with such a subdued assertiveness that undermined every bit of directness he'd focused. He'd never met someone who'd been willing to snub him so badly as to not even give him his own business card. He'd never felt so...so... _disrespected_. It was absurd for just about anyone to snub him but the way Cyrus had done it was so disturbingly _devious_. There was no way the other man wasn't sniggering to himself and fantasizing about all the time Keegan was going to waste obsessing over the blatant slight. He took a breath and stood up, opening the door to the conference room to find Warwick sitting on a desk with her legs crossed and her coffee mug in her hand, balanced on her knee.

“Didn't go too well, huh?” she asked with her classic shit-eating grin.

“Eat a dick, Warwick.”

“You establish any dominance in there? Probably not, huh? He smelled more like the commish than the commish does.” She winked crudely and elbowed him while she followed him to his office.

“If you don't get lost, I'm gonna pour your coffee into your tits.”

“Wow,” she laughed. “It went just _super duper_ in there, didn't it? Good to know somebody can knock you down a few pegs.” She veered off before they got to his office door and he was glad to be rid of the brunette nuisance. Warwick had continuously been beating on him ever since they'd both been promoted to detective at the same time, her barbs as sharp as ever especially now that he had a case with some actual notoriety. In most cases she was just annoying, useful only when they were here late at night and bounced ideas for cases in her office. Only when he came to her. Not the other way around.

His office air conditioning was high, blasting freezing air into the room and dipping the temperature to a perhaps obscenely cold degree for a hot summer. He wallowed in it, thinking over what the nosy outsider could possibly glean from looking at old dump sites. He stared at the map hung on the wall of his office. The red dots where the corpses had been discovered were tagged with their corresponding evidence file number and their name if they had one. They weren't quite in a ring around the small city, leaving quite a few back country areas where their killer could have been living. It was possible, even probable that he was from the country due to his unique ability to use back roads and service roads normally not considered viable by city-dwellers. But that was a whole lot of country to be filtering through to find a hidden killer who most likely held, along with most of the rural demographic, _traditional_ ideals of gender dynamics. The most likely to become violent during a rut.

He covered his eyes with his hands and then swooped them back into his short brown hair, clearing his senses for a bit of the commissioner's scent that had been sticky and insistent all over Cyrus, making him smug.

_Smile all you want. I don't care who you're fucking. I'm going to come out on top._

Since he had no intention of having dinner with the little prick, he pulled out his phone and made plans with his buddy to watch the game that night and get a few burgers down at the pub. And to make sure he was as well-versed as he could have possibly been, he made his way to the basement evidence files to study up on what he had. He was going to make sure that no matter what, if something was going to come together, _he_ was the one who was going to make the connection.

He left Cyrus's business card on top of his desk face down and unread. As he made his way down the back stairwell to the underground level, he could feel the heat steadily rising and even in the basement it wasn't nearly as cool as his office upstairs. The metal stairs clinked under his shoes and he felt the first few drops of sweat form on his neck before he pushed open the door to the archives. He wasn't going to roll over and die when it came to _his_ investigation and he knew that Cyrus was expecting a fight.

He would have been loathe to disappoint.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. Any comments or concerns, plot holes, things you'd like to see in later chapters, let me know in the comments. This is my first omegaverse work so if there are any small things you'd take issue with or are unclear in my world-building, let me know. I appreciate it. See you next update.


	4. Chapter 4

It hadn't been a shock that the young detective never texted him to meet up for dinner. In fact, it had been entirely expected. He had taken Blake out instead, treating her to a lovely Italian place in the city with some rather intriguing vegan options that piqued his ever-present curiosity. His stomach was still thrumming about how much he'd enjoyed the fare as he was showering the next morning, basking in the hot spray and lathering copiously with Blake's environmentally-friendly soap. He didn't want to smell like anyone else when he met up for interviews. He didn't even want the slightest hint of “Alpha” on him when he spoke to the Omegas. All he wanted was his credentials and his honor. It was all he'd ever need.

He dressed immaculately in a shirt and tie, pulling a nice deep sanguine sweater vest over the top and admiring himself in Blake's full length mirror. She stood behind him, pinning up her hair and inspecting her make up. He made sure to tell her how stunning she looked and she made sure to tell him how handsome he was.

He smiled to himself. “I forgot how nice it is to have someone in the mirror with me.”

She didn't touch him, aware of his rule for today. “I'll grace your mirror any time you ask, my love.” She sighed through her nose. “I know how hard it's been without him. Anyone with half a brain can see how it hurt you to lose him.”

“Life,” he said to the mirror Blake. “Life is so hard to live through.”

“I hate you for not letting me hug you,” she smiled.

“I love you for wanting to,” he smiled back. He could still feel that insistent rumble through his body as he looked at her and as he existed in her world. There was something so profoundly wrong here and he wished so badly to be able to simply abscond with her. To get onto the nearest train with her hand in his and leave no trace of themselves behind. She would have adored the imagery.

It was about ten in the morning after they'd met up with Keegan at the office and the two detectives had wound up in the car together on their way to their first interview. The bar was just a small thing, open all day and most of the night, last call being around two to three in the morning depending on crowd size. It was located in one of the smaller more backwater towns in the county and was a popular meeting place for Omegas looking for solace and the comfort of each other. Places like these were more often located in cities and were almost entirely an enigma to Alphas who were neither welcome nor expected.

Keegan's sour mood was veiled by thin interest. “What's the plan? You go in and they magically tell you what you want to know?”

“You'd be surprised what I'm capable of,” he stated mildly. There was no doubt that the detective hadn't detected any whiff of Blake on him and _that_ in itself was enough to intrigue him. He had no Alpha pheromones and was, hopefully, at least somewhat invisible for the moment. The Omegas would know him for what he was and he would already have that eternally coveted edge.

“Ten bucks says you crash and burn.”

“You'll eat those words,” he replied softly as they pulled into the mostly empty gravel lot. He got out and relished the way his shoes crunched over the hot gravel. A warm wind whipped from the southwest—the direction of the river. The sky was empty and impossibly blue, a beauty that still held no candle to the love Cyrus had for a gray atmosphere and even just a single drop of rain.

The bar was comparatively dark to the outside and the two of them sat on two of the bar stools to wait for the tender to come from the kitchen. Two women at a corner table having their early lunch stopped chattering and both turned to stare at Keegan while he sat. Noticing their curiosity, and perhaps their ire, he flipped open his badge until they turned away, merely flipping their heads once in a while to make sure they were still there and not causing any trouble.

The bartender was a short and slight little Omega whose nose was wrinkled hard when he came out of the door to the kitchen. He caught sight of Keegan and tried to straighten his expression, managing only a forced grimace. To Cyrus, the scene was comical at least and dismal at most.

“Detective Dormer,” he forced out through his gritted teeth. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Before Keegan could speak, Cyrus shot his hand out, catching the man's attention. “Detective Cyrus Hazel, Private Investigator from Philadelphia. Detective Dormer has agreed to accept my assistance on his case. I assume you are Mr. Schultz, as you were the daytime bartender that Det. Dormer interviewed in the files.”

Startled by his outstretched hand, the bartender instinctively shook it and leaned forward to catch all of Cyrus's introduction. “Uh, yes. I am. And yes. I was.” Shocked enough by Cyrus's abrupt greeting, he puzzlingly brought the tips of his fingers to his nose, having brushed them against the detective's wrist. The delicate sniff told the bartender everything he needed to know in a small moment and his eyes suddenly locked onto the bar's surface, his mind grinding away.

“I've been asked by the department to assist in the investigation and provide my unique perspective to gain justice on behalf of this county's Omega community. The commissioner is well aware of the complexities that can stand in the way of a typical detective.”

Keegan was watching him, his sharp eyes moving between Cyrus and the puzzled expression pulling at Schultz's features. His fingers were still only a few inches from his nose and it seemed he was gathering as much of his thoughts as he could.

Suddenly, Schultz's gaze snapped up toward him. “You're from Philly?”

“Yes,” Cyrus replied.

“You're not a part of them?”

“A consultant.”

“But not them.”

“No.”

His lips became tight and his wide frightened eyes shifted between the two detectives. Cyrus half grinned when he turned to his more dominant partner.

“Keegan,” he said softly, “Would you care to give us a few minutes?”

“Give you a few what?” he growled.

Cyrus could feel his grin becoming less and less genuine. “A few...minutes.”

The barely contained rage that was coming off of him was overtly apparent through his scent and it lingered even after Keegan had finally pushed through the bar's door and walked out into the too-bright Pennsylvania sun. The remnants of it were still enough to put Schultz on edge and he swallowed continuously, his eyes flitting to the door every so often.

“Alphas,” Cyrus joked. “So territorial.”

“You...you seem to do alright,” Schultz joked back, a careful smile lighting up his boyish features. “A detective. That's so exciting. I wish people took _me_ that seriously.”

“One rule for success as an Omega in an Alpha world,” he said with a wide grin, holding up a finger. When the boy was fully invested, he leaned forward and gave the clever answer his mother had given him. “Make your own rules.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It's certainly not,” he replied. “But I manage. Tell me what happened here. Tell me about Daniel Schroeder.”

He sighed. “They said on the news that he was the second. That there are three more. The night he disappeared...three nights before they found his body. He was here. There were a few Alphas who were drunk and out riding around. This place is kinda out of the way and the country boys like to come down sometimes and throw stuff at those of us out smoking by the front door. Usually, it's harmless. I'd picked up another shift that night to help out the night bartender 'cause it was busy and I was outside when the diesel engine started coming around. I thought I might tell them to get lost since they're drunk and rowdy and nobody wants them here.” He sniffed, thinking for a little while, his eyes flitting to the side while he gathered events in his head and formed the timeline. “Danny was inside. He was sucking down water like you wouldn't believe and he was starting to smell like he was coming up on a heat. We were trying to figure who was gonna drive him home when these Alphas picked up his scent from outside.” He rolled his watery eyes and sniffed. “You can imagine how well it goes when you've got twenty or so Omegas trying to stop two drunk idiots from rutting some poor kid hiding in the bathroom.”

Cyrus nodded, watching the bartender wipe a few tears away from his pale cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Anyway. We couldn't stop them. They ripped the door right out of the frame and the little bathroom we got was empty and Danny had squeezed right out through the itty-bitty window that faces the woods. They said they were gonna find him. They said they were gonna rut him so hard he'd be popping out pups. They took off in their fucking truck and got nailed for a DUI by the cops we'd called. They never found Danny. And neither did we.”

“Someone did,” Cyrus murmured while he put out his hand toward the weeping Omega, gently pressing down on the one that was given to him in return. That shuddering breath of grief was all-too-familiar to his investigations and each time he faced it, it was like picking the scab from an old wound. He could feel every emotion as it hit and he could see the darkness and wildness of a heat coming down over Danny as he ran through the woods, frightened and desperate. He cleared his throat. “I'm gonna find this guy, Mr. Schultz.”

“Lyle,” he sniffed.

“I'm gonna find this guy, Lyle. I promise I'm gonna find him.” He put his card into Lyle's hand with clear purpose.

His whisper was small and his eyes wide. “Be careful.”

He climbed into the air conditioned car and put his seat belt on before he held out his hand. A crisp folded ten dollar bill was pushed into his palm and he curled his fingers over it, delighting in the crunch it made in his fist. “You know,” he started when he shoved the bill in his pocket, “he couldn't have made it very far.”

“What's that?” Keegan growled, even more sour than he had been.

“Danny was running from two Alphas who were caught for a DUI later in the night. He left via the back window in the bathroom, facing the woods. Now if you're an experienced serial killer looking for Omegas in heat and you're staking out a place to do it, where would you stand?”

Keegan was quiet before he moved his pointer figure toward the two dumpsters to the side of the lot. “Downwind if the breeze is from the Southwest. So they don't smell me. I've got a full view of the front and the back. I'd be able to scent them all from a distance and target the one whose scent gets stronger as they leave. Dark hoodie, a good sense of shadow, I could stay there all night.”

“He's hunting. He takes the boys, keeps them for roughly 72 hours, guts them, and drops them. His hunts are closer together now that he's got a rhythm. Meaning we should find another body in a day or so if he doesn't hide it well.” Cyrus took out a small notebook and began scribbling in it with a pen he took from his pocket.

Keegan was staring out the driver side window, his eyes focused on the swaying tops of the trees across the road. His voice was low. “Had you pegged for a Beta.”

“Understandable,” he snipped, “Most of us Private Investigators are.” He was still jotting down notes. “I've done well to capitalize on my status and use it to my advantage where necessary. I imagine it's much easier in the city, although I've never met another detective like me. Doctors, some. Nurses, all the time. CEOs, a few. Detectives? Just me.”

“You never wanted kids?”

“I have everything I've ever needed.” It was a lie, but he'd never needed kids. “The notion that the instinct to breed is paramount to all else is utterly nonsense and, in my honest opinion, can be shoved right up next to your next question about how I haven't ever considered settling down. Those kinds of inquiries are annoying at best and downright offensive at worst.”

The very next thing that came out of Keegan Dormer's mouth was going to be the deciding factor of whether or not Cyrus was ever going to be able to trust or respect him. It shouldn't have come to this crossroad so quickly but these things happened in their own time. Most Alphas, when faced with this amount of level-headedness would imagine that the Omega was upset and insist that this “outburst” that had been delivered in an unassuming way had to stem from overheated emotion. Others would simply brush it off with a crude question about when the last heat had been or when was the last time they'd gotten laid.

For an Alpha, Keegan was uncharacteristically quiet. He put the car in gear and turned his head toward Cyrus, his eyes making strong contact. “Where are we headed next? There's another bar kinda like this in a town about five miles from here. If these are the holes he's fishing, we've got three more names to find.”

Cyrus grinned and released a small relieved chuckle. “Hit it, partner.”

The engine of the Taurus whirred to life when Keegan pressed the gas, spraying a small amount of gravel behind them and kicking up dust into the hot wind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have left me comments and kudos. As with most writers, I adore feedback and take it very seriously and very much to heart. I hope Keegan and Cyrus have done a little growing on you.


	5. Chapter 5

Cyrus had surprised him and that was no mean feat. He'd never known the commissioner to have any patience for Omegas and he would have been lying if he'd said he thought she'd ever sleep with one. That and the fact that the guy had somehow made it past every roadblock set up to stop him from becoming a detective, those two victories were possibly some of the most impressive things he'd seen a man do. And here he was, the key to the lock. More names meant more stories. More names could have meant more lies. But, he thought darkly, if they were about to get another body in the next 24 hours, he wanted to have more of anything. Even if they were lies.

As the pale pavement rolled away under the car, he caught himself stealing glances at the PI, watching him scribble in his little notebook his interview and the impressions he got. As hapless as society considered most Omegas, he was sharp and diligent. His unemotional approach to nearly everything made Keegan a little disconcerted and he didn't mind admitting it to himself. He recognized that it was the beauty of Cyrus—his ability to be unaffected—that got him so far.

_I shouldn't have said anything about kids._

He stumbled over his words, blurting out his phrases awkwardly. “I'm...I'm sorry I made an...an assumption about you. Omegas. About kids. I don't get...I don't get asked that and I've just as much reason to be.”

“You don't nest,” Cyrus replied matter-of-factly.

“You do?” The thought of Cyrus gathering together pillows and blankets to pile into a closet or all over a curtained four poster bed made a strange warm feeling pool low in his gut. Suddenly faced with the idea of Cyrus as an _Omega_ , Keegan swallowed and fixed his eyes on the road.

Cyrus paused, probably picking up the undertones of slight arousal in the cramped car. His mouth was straight across and his tone flat while he continued to jot down notes. “I've been known to gather a few things now and then.”

He wanted to clarify that what he'd meant by his reason for getting asked about kids was the insatiable urge to breed during a rut, but his mouth was suddenly as dry as this particular June and he swallowed his words while they pulled into the next parking lot. The only thing he could manage when he parked was to point meaningfully toward a small outcrop of trees that was a solitary oasis in the gravel lot on the northeastern edge.

Cyrus's voice was dark. “It would be perfect for him.”

They got out and Keegan motioned for Cyrus to go ahead while he wandered over to the set of three or four trees that sat a few yards from the building. He had no intention of even bothering to try to sit in on Cyrus's interview. If he was just going to be asked to leave, he might as well stay outside and inspect the possible hiding place.

The air was full of smells when the wind was right, tossing him the delicious fragrances of cooking onions, seared meat, and when the breeze shifted, the hard hot dusty scent of the dry riverbed. It was nearly too easy for him to start trying to scent for an Omega. He opened his senses and closed his eyes, imagining how many there might have been inside. It was hot so they were most likely sweating. Could he smell Cyrus? His body and mind searched hard for any hint at all of an upcoming heat, that sweet hungry scent that drove some Alphas to the brink of reason.

There was none. But if there had been, he would have easily picked it up. He had a full view of the front and back doors and the whole of the gravel lot. If the moon wasn't full, the trees would have provided plenty of cover and nobody would have ever bothered to look. When he was finished with his assessment, he got back in the car and set the air conditioning on high. He only had to wait about thirty minutes before he saw that distinct red sweater vest through the windshield.

When Cyrus got in, his first remark was about the air conditioning. “Whew. That feels great.” He opened up his notes and dropped the bomb Keegan had been dreading. “Bad news. I've got two license plate numbers from cars that were left in the lot and had to be towed by the local PD. The latest one was only two nights ago.”

“Shit,” he whispered. “I'll get the crime guys down here to see if they can pick anything up from his possible hiding place.” He pulled out his phone. “You call in those plates and get some names.” He tapped his finger on the steering wheel and looked over toward Cyrus who was busily writing down details from his interview. “There have got to be at least three more of these kind of places in the county that I can think of right now. Maybe more.”

“If he's fishing the same hole twice, like this suggests, he'll be backtracking too. We've gotta get this guy, Keegan. He's really knocked these souls for a loop here.”

He made sure the crime lab arrived and had their orders after he'd secured the scene and it didn't take long for the PI to do his part, the both of them having to relinquish the comfort of the air conditioned car in order to force the pieces of the investigation together. The next step was to work the freshest lead. The name Cyrus had for the latest was Ken Laughlin and although the name didn't ring any bells, he was sure there could have been a missing persons report already filed with the local PD.

When they got back in the car after at least two hours of details and phone calls, Keegan was wondering how in the hell he hadn't been able to smell how perfectly lovely Cyrus's scent was. How he had ever assumed that he could have been a Beta. It was that damned sandalwood soap Blake used that masked those pleasing Omega tones released in his sweat. He rolled his eyes at himself, reflecting on the fact that he probably smelled like a dirty lumberjack. He was perfectly aware of how prolific his pheromones were practically all the time since Lena was always ready to casually (and sometimes not-so-casually) remind him.

“Okay,” Cyrus breathed as he clicked his seat belt together. His eyes were shining and his black and white hair was sticking to his forehead in some places, spiked by his sweat in others. He pulled his small notebook out and gave Keegan the run-down. “Two days ago there was an all-Omega band that played from around eight to eleven. Very cute set of ladies, I understand, and the bar was a little more packed and rowdy than it normally is. As far as I can tell, the bartender didn't know the kid who disappeared. Turns out, she _did_ know the name of the previous missing car owner but couldn't reach him when she tried to call. Not such a coincidence: he was your first victim.”

Keegan let his eyebrows form a scowl. “I could have been here already. If they'd talked to me. I could have been here weeks ago.”

“Moving on,” Cyrus continued gently, “Nobody here knows this Ken kid. He wasn't a regular and he was probably snatched right out of the parking lot when he went to go home after the band quit playing. My suggestion is finding his apartment. Maybe we can get a lead on who he knows. Who he's had contact with. Your guys are getting his phone records and his internet history and we've got approximately,” he glanced at his watch, “ten to twelve hours before we're no longer looking for a living human being and we break out the cadaver dogs.”

“But no pressure, right?” Keegan answered.

“No pressure,” he agreed, somewhat breathless. He put his phone into the phone holder hooked to the Taurus's air vent, the GPS on the screen with directions toward Columbia. “The local PD had a record of his last known address. It looks like he should have a roommate so we might get lucky.”

Keegan pulled out of the lot and passed Cyrus an indiscreet grin.

“What?”

He shrugged. He wasn't sure if he wanted to admit aloud what he'd been thinking. It was that he was beginning to understand the commissioner's fascination with him. He was fast. He was efficient. He was thorough. For all intents and purposes, he was a great detective. He didn't want to admit that in the course of a few hours, even after losing ten bucks to him, he'd managed to let Cyrus Hazel, PI, snag a bit of his appreciation. With all the flighty, unreliable, and emotionally unstable Omegas he'd met in his life, it was nearly unfathomable for him to find one who was probably more capable of being a detective than _he_ was. This was not Cyrus's first rodeo by any means—and it showed.

It only took a few minutes for them to find the third story walk-up and it turned out that they were, actually, lucky. His roommate was home. She stood on the other side of the thick wooden door, the lock still latched.

“The police?” she asked, her voice muffled. “Is this about Kenny?”

“It is,” Keegan ground out through the door. It was apparent why she'd kept it shut as the soft but persistent scent of her heat was wafting pleasantly from the space under the door. “Is this Gayle Bennett?”

“Yes. I'm his roommate.”

Cyrus's voice was little more than a whisper. “Their cycles must have synced while they lived together. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” he replied. He raised his voice to be heard through the door. “Miss Gayle, you can open the door, you're in no danger.”

“Says you,” she shot back. “I know an Alpha when I smell one.”

“If it makes you more comfortable, I'll wait in the hall while you speak to my associate but we need to know details regarding your roommate's disappearance.” He had used his commanding voice. It was usually enough to at least get a door open, especially with Betas or Omegas. It worked here, the door opening just a crack and the full force of her scent hitting him square in the face. He could only imagine the power of two heats at the same time. “Thank you,” he sighed. “This is Detective Cyrus Hazel, he's assisting with the investigations. Can he come into your apartment for the purpose of asking questions about your roommate, Ken Laughlin?”

She was a timid dirty blonde and her eyes were bloodshot and sleepless. Her hand was clutched around a bottle of Dasani and he could see her shoulders trembling with shivers from her fever, her skin slightly glazed with a sheen of sweat and her features flushed. She was in the thick of it and it made Keegan's blood rush, his ears reddening and ringing. He kept his expression stoic while she nodded and eyed him as Cyrus disappeared into the small apartment. When the door was shut again, he turned away from it and sucked in huge breaths of air through his nose. He rushed to one of the windows in the hall and pried it open with his desperate Alpha strength, careless to the hot wind that blew in, grateful if only for the relief it gave him from that sticky, needy _lust_.

“You lost?” came a forward tone from his right. He was shorter than Keegan by quite a bit but the sound of his voice was almost threatening.

“Detective Keegan Dormer,” he replied, leaning on the far side of the open window just in case the boy's sweat-coated appearance was from more than just the oppressive sun. “You live here?”

“207.”

“You know 209?”

“Kenny and Gayle.”

He cleared his throat. “You 21? You ever go out with Kenny?”

His azure eyes flashed. “He got taken. When he went to see the Charmers. _That's_ why you're here stinking up the place. I should thank you for opening the window. It's been stuck since the '70s and we'll be airing this hall out for weeks to get rid of your stench.” He approached the window, leaning on the sill with his forearms and closing his eyes against the breeze. “I'm only 19. I don't go to bars. I'd try to sneak in if I thought I could get away with it but I'm small for my age.”

“Our guy has your friend. Right now. If there's anything you might know. If Kenny said anything about something weird that he saw, if he noticed someone watching him, we have to know that.”

“He's gone, Detective. Let him go. It happens sometimes. You walk down the street too late at night and nobody sees you again. Poof. Like you never even existed.”

Keegan felt his heart ache. “I'm trying to help.”

The kid chuckled. “How did you ever think you could?” He got up from the window and walked toward his door. “Keep it open when you leave. You're disgusting.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Approximately the halfway point.
> 
> Thank you. See you next time.


	6. Chapter 6

That hard rumbling he felt in his soul was more profound when he emerged from apartment 209 and found Keegan standing alone in front of the hall's only window, the breeze fluttering the end of his tie. The air was more bearable in the hallway, the incredible strength of Gayle's pull diminished greatly by the continuous airflow created by the open window. The shoulder of his sweater vest was soaked through and he could feel the uncomfortable cold of her tears as they seeped into his dress shirt underneath. The heavy weight of her when she'd clung to him was still imprinted on his body and hung off his memory in wet strings of viscous emotion.

Keegan looked moody, his dark slashing brows knitted into a hefty scowl while he stared down to the dirty streets below. It didn't lift when he noticed Cyrus but he did address him, nodding toward him in greeting. “You alright?” He was looking pointedly at the damp patch on his shoulder.

“She's going to have a very hard week,” he sighed.

Keegan merely grunted in response, his eyes again shifting outside. “You smell like her. A bit.”

“I apologize. It might be prudent to swing by the commissioner's apartment for me to grab a quick change of clothes. Maybe a shower.” He cleared his throat and slowly started toward the stairs, allowing Keegan to follow him. In a low voice, he shared what he'd learned. “She blames herself. It's common. She didn't go because she didn't want to get stuck somewhere and have her heat come while she was out, even if everyone there wouldn't have minded, it's still not something that's pleasant to have happen in public.” They reached the car where Keegan had parked it on the street and he looked toward the river and the rails, shimmering waves dancing off the pavement from the unforgiving sun. He got in, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of how much Gayle had accidentally scented him. He swallowed. “She doesn't know who else could have known him there and she had nothing for us other than a whole lot of tears.” He said nothing when Keegan turned the air up to blasting and rolled down the driver side window.

“We've gotta talk to someone who was there.”

“Perhaps a quick...uh...quick...”

Keegan motioned to Cyrus's lap. “Your notebook. You get names of any of the regulars who were there?”

“Well yes.”

“I'm not wasting time today. It'll fade and I'm not some horny kid. You don't have to shower for me.” He pulled the car out and they were off.

The day rolled on without a single cloud ever forming or rolling overhead. As the hours wore on and their leads slowly dwindled, Cyrus could sense Keegan's mood getting rougher, his new found hope in the investigation flickering. By the time the sky had drifted into a dazzle of yellow, orange, pinks, and indigo, Cyrus didn't smell like Gayle Bennett anymore and they'd run out of leads, even going so far as to track down the damn band that had played that night. In their search, they'd even found more of the names they'd been looking for, tracking down stories left and right but nothing ever webbing into something more. Not a single witness had seen someone disappear. Nobody had seen anyone snatched, accepting rides, nothing. None of them even remembered catching a whiff of an Alpha. The tight feeling in Cyrus's gut was coiled and ready to snap.

Keegan had just finished putting gas in the Taurus and he opened the door, dropping heavily into the seat and hanging his arm out the open window. The keys hung uselessly from the ignition and they sat in the gathering dark somewhere in the wilds outside Ephrata, far from the river and the rails. He rubbed his hands on his face and groaned.

Cyrus felt that groan inside himself and stared out the windshield, tired and hot. His stomach growled and he was going to ignore it but the sound caught Keegan's attention. He put his hand over it. “I suppose we forgot lunch.”

Keegan looked at his watch. “And dinner.”

“Anywhere you want,” Cyrus invited. “My treat.”

Keegan thought for a moment and then smiled a bit down toward the steering wheel. “I actually make a pretty good steak. If you're willing to take the peace offering for blowing you off last night.”

A warmth spread in his chest and he couldn't help the exhausted smile that split his features. “I'm willing.”

Keegan drove them all the way back down to Willow Street, to a charming little road and into the drive of a modestly sized house. He appeared almost sheepish when he got out and gazed toward Cyrus. “It's not as nice as Blake's apartment but it's got a good-sized yard and the sunsets are always beautiful.”

“I think it looks perfect on you.” He held up his hands to connect his thumbs and forefingers to make a rectangle around Keegan's face and then moved it to the house, succeeding in the effort to make the young Alpha laugh. The sound coursed through his veins.

The house was old but the must and chipping paint were charming. The soft ambient lighting of oil lamps scattered about brought it quickly to life and as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, the glow was practically magical along with the sweet scents of early summer and the decidedly masculine musk that was present on every surface. Cyrus hadn't allowed himself to so quickly become enamored by an Alpha's _den_ before, but when he padded across the soft carpet in his bare feet toward the back screen door with a glass of white wine in his hand to watch Keegan grilling on the deck, he felt helpless to the draw. Thousands of glittering fireflies were hovering in the darkness outside and he slid the screen open and then shut behind him while he walked out toward the rail. He felt Keegan next to him while he leaned, entranced by the show.

“They're beautiful,” Cyrus whispered. When Keegan didn't answer, he turned his head to face him, finding a deep frown and worry lines by his dark eyes. “What?”

Keegan let out a breath. “Do you...do you think there's something else we could have tried? Something we missed?”

Cyrus was wistful. “There's always something you miss.”

Keegan was picking at a loose splinter of wood on the railing. “You know. I've never met an Omega like you.”

“I'm no different than the couple dozen you met today. Just a little bit luckier.” He grinned. “You're not the first Alpha to say that to me.”

Keegan was laughing again softly. “You're different. You just don't like to admit that you've been hiding an inner Alpha under that sheepskin.”

“A very creative allusion,” Cyrus stated dryly, “But really. Any Omega with my upbringing and circumstances could have clawed their way right to where I am right now. I'm not special. Just tenacious and lucky.”

“Is that how you bagged Blake? Tenacity and luck?”

Cyrus was tickled and let it show, his grin wide and his laughter bubbling up as if from an endless well. “I didn't _bag_ Blake.”

“Oh? This sounds like an interesting story,” he smiled, his eyebrows lifting while he moved away to check the steaks. “Something I must be privy to, for sure. She managed to bag you? The _tenacious_ Omega detective?” He was chuckling still when he put the steaks on a plate.

Cyrus took a long swallow of his wine and felt a delicate flush rise in his cheeks. “I've never been with Blake.”

Keegan seemed stiff for a few seconds, silently turning to close the cover of the grill and turn off the propane. His facial expression was hard to read. “So...so yesterday, you...”

“I let her scent me because she was worried you'd immediately bully me.” He didn't know what the name of the emotion was that was roiling inside his stomach while he watched Keegan come across this new information and digest it. It was something close to satisfaction.

Keegan nodded while he arranged the table on the deck and lit a few candles. “She was right to. She's got good instincts.” He flashed a careful glance toward Cyrus. “She's not going to think I'm bullying you now, is she?”

“If you promise not to bully me later, I'll be sure to clear up any of her misunderstandings. That means you have to give me a ride home when I want one.”

“I'll be sure not to have anymore wine then,” he grinned, motioning to the table. “Come sit down, I promise you, this is gonna melt in your mouth.” He seemed almost giddy when they were both seated and Cyrus took the first bite, staring at him and waiting for his opinion.

He swallowed and speared a few pieces of asparagus before he grinned. “It's alright.”

“ _Alright?_ ” Keegan was visibly deflated and Cyrus was then acutely aware of how much power he held.

“I'm teasing,” he laughed. “It's extremely good. Tell me how you came to be so good at it.”

The detective immediately brightened as he launched into a long-winded tale, full of mystery and wit, of not only how he'd come across the secret of a good steak but his house as well, the two of them seeming to come as a set from an old, grizzled Alpha who sounded nothing short of legendary. This tale lasted most of the dinner and Cyrus wasn't surprised. It was nothing short of routine for him to sit and enjoy an Alpha story. They were usually presented with flourish and pizazz. Keegan was a born story-teller and when he was finished and the plates were empty, he sat back in his chair with a delighted sigh and a small smile. What Cyrus didn't see coming was the next question.

“So what about your mate?”

Cyrus held out his wine glass in a silent gesture to be served. The blatant slight in dynamic etiquette was completely lost to Keegan who mindlessly took the bottle from the ice bucket and poured him another glass. “I don't have a mate.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive. I know Alphas can be obnoxious but it's nice to have one sometimes, isn't it?” Keegan's cheeks were pink.

He sipped and held the rim of his glass to his bottom lip for a while, deciding on what he wanted to say. When he put it down, it was decisive. “I lived with my mate for twenty-three long, happy years. He died five years ago. It was cancer linked back to Zomytril.”

Keegan's eyes narrowed. “Zomytril? The suppressant? Your mate was an Omega?”

He gently nodded and didn't meet Keegan's stare, his fingers softly touching the stem of his wineglass where it sat on the table. “I understand that's not something people expect to hear. It is a little strange, I suppose. But we were in love so we made it work. He was an obstetrician and he knew the risks of medication but when you're on call...” He picked up the glass and took a mouthful, unwilling to talk any more about Mel or their unusual love. He could feel a slight shudder through his body as the old grief rippled through him and pulled his brows together.

“I'm sorry,” Keegan said. “I wouldn't have asked...”

Cyrus drained his glass and set it down, lifting his hands and then slapping them down on his thighs. “Count on me to ruin the night,” he joked, pushing that familiar shudder down back where it came. “Here we are and I just had a lovely steak, I'm a little drunk, and I just run right over it with old sad stories.” He forced a laugh. “How fucking rude, right? Tell you what, you give me a ride back to Blake's apartment and I'll get dinner tomorrow and make up for it?”

He wished Keegan would change his concerned expression but the alterations he made were only slight and he looked very much opposed to taking Cyrus home. Despite that, he stood slowly and nodded with a whispered “okay” while he cleared the table. After he'd found his keys and they were making their way into the city, only then did his expression seem to soften, his mood lightly lifting. When the car was parked, he made no move to get out until Cyrus had already shut the door.

“Keegan,” he said while the detective shut the drivers side door, his face toward the ground. “Don't over-think it. And for the love of all that is good in this world, do _not_ get protective of me. This morning, I was some chucklefuck from Philly who was gonna trample all over your investigation and stomp all over your toes. Just because I sweat heavily and chug water like a dying man every so often doesn't change my chucklefuck status. I don't want or need your pity for something that happened five years ago, and I certainly don't need you to start thinking I need looking after.” He swallowed, reflecting on the disturbing amount of times he felt like he'd had this very same drunken conversation.

In a moment, Keegan had approached him, his scent unusually overpowering. Keegan was normally putting out a fair amount of pheromones but this seemed nearly excessive. The intoxicating fragrance assaulted Cyrus's tipsy brain and he barely registered that Keegan was almost touching him. His voice was soft and unassuming. “I don't think you need protecting. You're older, wiser, and a hell of a lot more capable than I am. Honestly, Cyrus, I'm fucking jealous of you. Of your skill. Of your...tenacity.”

He looked upward slightly, still annoyed that Keegan was a few inches taller. “When you're my age, you'll find it easier,” he breathed.

“I thought it _was_ easy until I met you, you chucklefuck.”

Without thinking, Cyrus eased forward and pressed his lips gently against Keegan's, expecting the ferocity that normally came from a tender gesture toward Alphas. It didn't come, his kiss simply met with a matched soft pressure and a tender caress to his jaw. He tasted like wine and steak and something pleasantly masculine, the deep hum from his body reverberating through Cyrus with an image of those flashing transformers in the dark cold night. But it was warm here. Hot, even. And Cyrus broke away gently, whispering his good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chucklefuck" is a term I came across a few times while reading several fics and it sounded more like an endearment than an insult and so...voila.
> 
> Thank you for reading and see you next update.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I describe a torso.  
> And: Keegan's "panic" attack isn't a panic attack, but if you don't want to read it, it's nearer to the end.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling and feeling dumber than usual. He normally felt pretty stupid most of the time but Cyrus made him feel like he was the most naïve piece of shit on Earth. “Lucky,” he'd said. As if presenting as an Omega was lucky. As if having to fight for everything he ever wanted was lucky. As if losing the love of your life to cancer was _lucky_. Keegan felt a deep hole open up in his stomach. He felt like he hadn't had to fight for anything in his life. He felt like every injustice he'd thought he faced, every small bump he'd made a mountain out of, was coming back to haunt him by forcing him to see into Cyrus's reality. And Cyrus thought himself lucky.

He turned over onto his stomach and placed a comforting hand down the front of his boxers, cradling himself. He'd spent most of the day sporting a decent chub just from the leftover aroma of Gayle Bennett all over Cyrus, but despite that, it wasn't the faded scent that had made him jerk himself off in the shower before bed. It had been that maddening kiss that had sent him over the edge. It had been all he could muster not to pull over by the side of the road on his way home and whip himself out just for some relief.

He'd never thought he'd find an Omega who demanded this kind of respect. He'd never thought he'd be so _attracted_ to one either. Usually, he was a subscriber to the same notion that many Alphas were—Omegas were a handful of emotional trouble. Nothing more, nothing less. They cried more often, they whined _all_ the time, and their sometimes irregular heat cycles made them insufferably unreliable. Their instinct during one of those cycles was to breed and they actively sought partners, even some they didn't know. As weak-minded as many of them were, they enjoyed being knotted as much as the Alphas enjoyed knotting them—who exactly was taking advantage of whom?

He closed his eyes and shoved his face down into the pillow. Deep inside himself, he knew that was a load of bunk. _He_ was more weak-minded than most Omegas. As a member of the police force, he'd been subjected to all kinds of tests and one had been how long he could stay in a room with an Omega in heat without moving. Another had been how long he could stay in a room full of teargas. He'd made it through both but to this day, he wasn't about to try to guess which one was worse. An Alpha _could_ overcome that basic urge. So could an Omega. He'd seen it with plenty of them. Their instinct of self preservation was more powerful than their sexual desires.

_Sometimes._

He fell into a fitful slumber punctuated by strange images and he awoke to his phone vibrating on his bedside table only five hours later when sunlight was just starting to brighten the eastern sky. When he pulled the phone to his ear and managed a grumpy salutation, he wasn't sure what he'd expected.

“Detective Dormer? Kyle Witchet from the Mount Joy PD. I hate to be callin' ya for this but I got this...well...I got these _remains_ here on Musser Road and I'm pretty sure they're gonna interest you.”

“No,” he whispered into the phone. “It's...it's a torso, isn't it?”

“It is, sir. Right in the ditch along here. Coroner puts time of death around midnight last night. Dumped just a few hours ago. Took the liberty of making some house visits but, I gotta be honest here, there isn't much out on this road. You got an ETA?”

He picked up his watch and squinted at it, shaking the sleep from his mind. “Give me about an hour. I'll be there.”

He woke Cyrus and picked him up at Blake's, finding him bleary-eyed but awake out front in a pair of khaki shorts and one of his skin-tight black spandex t-shirts. His sleep-tousled hair and puffy lips drew most of Keegan's attention along with his distracting Omega scent that was bleeding over the sandalwood soap he'd showered with before sleeping. When they were both settled and on their way, he apologized thickly.

“I'm sorry for waking you up.” It wasn't what he wanted to say. It wasn't even that he wanted to _apologize_. “The local PD is doing most of the interviews, I guess I could have let you sleep if you'd wanted. So you didn't have to see the body.”

Cyrus shrugged and reached into his pocket for some wintermint gum, handing Keegan a piece. “I don't mind looking at a body. Seen a lot of bodies before.”

“Do you...” He bit his lip. “Do you think it's Kenny?”

“Ayup.”

Even before the sun was up, he knew the day was going to be oppressive. The dry heat was already making his mouth feel cottony and the Taurus's display cheerfully told him that it was in the upper eighties. The pit that was in his stomach was still open and festering. He wanted to ask Cyrus about their kiss but he wasn't sure what he wanted to hear as a response so he kept quiet, his anxiety barely reined. He was paranoid that Cyrus could pick up on it so he drove faster, eager to get out of the small space where he was sure the other detective could sense his nervousness.

What remained of Kenny Laughlin was what had remained of the rest of them. A discarded torso sitting in a patch of weeds by the side of the road. It was on its back, arched and gaping open from the huge gash that had opened it from the sternum to just above the pubic mound. It was a hideous and misshapen cut, obviously made while Kenny had been writhing in an attempt to escape. A few withering loops of intestines were draped over the side of the torso and there was minimal blood. His arms were severed from the shoulders and his legs from the hips, ripped savagely from the corpse post-mortem by brutal Alpha power. Like the others, his genitals were intact but he'd been viciously raped.

He glanced at Cyrus who was casually looking at what remained of the corpse and chewing his gum, seemingly unaffected. Already, he could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck. He moved to stand next to him, downwind, breathing in that faint purely Cyrus scent.

Keegan muttered, “The lab's going to come process, the scene is secure.”

Cyrus nodded. “I asked if there had been any trouble gathering information but apparently, there wasn't much to see. Blake's gonna try to rein in the media on it and focus the plea for information to the Omegas. He doesn't have a victim right now. He's going to be hunting. Fortunately, we got around to most of them yesterday so they should be on their toes, watching for anything strange. We could get a call tonight or tomorrow.” He cleared his throat heavily and wandered away a few steps to inquire with one of the local guys about a bottle of water and came back with one for Keegan as well. After a couple sips, he continued, “This torso belongs to Kenny Laughlin. He had a small horse shoe tattooed on his hip.”

Keegan leaned toward the remains. “So he did.” He gave a hard breath in and out. “The Coroner said he was alive last night. While we were...having dinner and I...”

“You were going to do exactly what to prevent this, Keegan? Suddenly develop psychic powers to find him and rescue him from danger? This isn't your fault.”

He shot back, heated, “All this time I've wasted. All this time I should have been ahead of all of this. I should have been able to recognize and see what you saw right away. I feel...I feel _stupid_. I feel useless. Witnesses don't talk to me, I couldn't even put together where he was snatching his victims. There shouldn't _be_ this many.” He made a hard gesture to the mangled torso in the weeds. “Kenny Laughlin would be alive if you had been here from the start.”

Cyrus was unimpressed by his outburst and replied calmly, “You can't make that assertion.”

“Cyrus, you're a _better_ detective. And, if you haven't noticed, it's fucking killing me to say that.”

Cyrus blinked once and then twice, sipping his water with his brows in a straight line. “Is it really so hard to fathom? Did it keep you up last night? I'm glad I'm back to being the chucklefuck from Philly but don't go too south on me here.” He pushed his glasses up his sweaty nose. “You did what you could with what you had. In future cases, you'll have my number and you can use me as a resource if you need me. I'm a train away, it's not a big deal. I'm your partner on this, not your competition. I'm not here to show you up. If you didn't notice, I didn't develop psychic powers either.”

With that, Cyrus wandered away with his water in his hand, leaving Keegan to feel even more useless looking after him. He busied himself after that with the basic over-seeing of evidence retrieval, waiting until the body was on its way to the morgue before he collected the errant PI from grilling the crowd that had gathered and set them both in the car. The silence between them was thrumming with energy and it was all Keegan's fault. In the hot Taurus, Cyrus's sweat was sweet and delectable. There was no possible way the Omega wasn't detecting his overt arousal through his scent. He turned the ignition and put it in drive, the dust that had settled over the road billowing behind them as he drove forward.

Keegan cracked the window with the air on. “Listen,” he said, slowly and full of purpose. “I'm having a hard time because...I find myself attracted to you. And it sounds really strange to me because I'm usually not attracted to _anyone_ like I am to you and it's so confusing because I never thought that when I found someone ideal...I never thought, in a million years, that they would make me feel as...” He sighed. “As _inadequate_ as you do.”

Cyrus took a larger gulp of water while he stared out the windshield.

“I know it's wrong.” Keegan was still trying with all his might to rationalize what he felt. “I know. I know.” He pushed against the wheel, back into his seat as if the force would help him. “I know.”

“Drop me off at Blake's apartment,” Cyrus stated.

“What? You don't want to go to the office?”

“Drop me off.” Cyrus was patient and his voice soft. “At Blake's apartment.”

“Why?” Keegan sudden felt the hole in him open and felt himself collapsing. “Is it because I'm attracted to you? I can't help that. You're not going back, are you? We're not done with...with...”

“Keegan.” Cyrus was staring straight ahead, the mostly-empty water bottle in his hand. “Keegan?”

“What?”  He felt an unexplainable shiver course through his whole being.

“I appreciate your feelings. And also your honesty. I think that if you would like, I would be willing to go on a date with you sometime.”

“R-really?” He was pulling into Blake's neighborhood and his heart was pounding in his chest, feeling almost like it was flying into his throat. He felt like he was in high school all over again, risking it all to take a shot with the hot and ready Omegas coming up on their first heats. The air in the Taurus was heady and he couldn't stop from taking short, shallow breaths, vaguely aware that he could barely sit comfortably anymore. By the time he was pulling into a spot in front of Blake's building, he was practically hyperventilating, gulping in stuttering short breaths while his hands shook and his whole body felt consumed by a pervasive ache.

“Keegan?”

He'd put the car in park but his hands were on the wheel, gripping hard while his whole body shivered and trembled. He couldn't stop swallowing. How could he? His mouth kept filling up with saliva.

Cyrus's voice was steady and calm. “I'm going to get out now. I'm going to see you later, okay? Tell me okay.”

“O-ok-k-ay.”

His muscles were straining while they twitched and shuddered inside him. He recognized that Cyrus had opened the car door and had left but he couldn't move because he didn't know _where_ he was supposed to go. It felt like it was a few minutes later when he finally looked down at himself, finding a large damp stain soaking through the front of his trousers. From the side of his brain, he heard a steady tapping. He looked up to the driver side window in horror as Blake's amused expression met him through the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's what happens when you put the frog in the water before you bring it to boil.
> 
> See you next update.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a break not only to switch scenes but to separate where the rape takes place. Although it is closer to the end of the scene, it may be best for some to simply skip the whole of the scene if you don't feel comfortable reading it. Please take care of yourselves, this is not one of those scenes where there is the illusion of pleasure; it's not dub-con. It's rape, plain and simple. A (very) simple summary of the situation is in the end notes for you if you skip.

His eyes were closed while he lay back in Blake's huge, hot tub-sized bathtub, his head resting on a soft towel and a cold pack pressed to his forehead. It was dark outside the window and he was lamenting having lied to Keegan about buying dinner. When Blake came in again, she dumped the entire bin from the ice-maker into the water and then knelt down to flip the compress on his head. As hot as he was, he was surprised there wasn't steam coming off his neck and shoulders where the water lapped him. Blake had gotten him an ice cold Fanta and he was sucking it down with abandon whenever the mood struck.

“He jizzed in his pants,” Blake blurted while she sat on the toilet, gazing at his nude body under the water. “Right in the car. And you didn't even give him a handy, you savage.”

Cyrus snorted and grinned hard, turning his head on the towel to crack an eye at her. “Are you going to jizz in your pants?”

“I have a pretty decent hard-on right now, but I'm not sitting inside a hot car with you a foot away from me. He had no idea what had happened to him when I found him.” She was laughing quietly, almost in disbelief. “I had to let him borrow some sleep pants to go home. He'd absolutely _gushed._ ”

“You know, I'm embarrassed,” he admitted. “I've never been this early. I'm not due until next week. Poor Keegan. He was confessing his feelings for me and then I sent him inadvertently into a rut. I hope he doesn't think his feelings are invalid just because he told them to me while he was consumed with instinct. I can tell they were legitimate.” He pulled his arms up out of the icy water and rested them on the side of the tub, sitting a little straighter.

Blake moved to the floor and rolled the bottoms of her pajamas, dipping one of her toes into the water and then deciding it was far too cold. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. “I hope you know you don't have to be in that bath. You could be in my bed.”

He took a swig of Fanta. “Honestly, I haven't had a craving yet. Just feverish.” He shrugged. “And as always, I do appreciate the offer.”

“Since you're gonna be here for a few days, I'll hold out some hope you'll sit on my knot at least once if you get desperate.”

He laughed. “Don't think you're taking advantage of me, either, I'm telling you now that whatever I do to you in the next week is of my own free will.”

She made a fist-pump motion for victory and they laughed together, comfortable and familiar. When his phone buzzed on the counter, she handed it to him, wiggling her eyebrows. “Maybe it's Keegan inviting you over.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Cyrus scoffed. “He's probably home by now, licking his wounds.” It was close to nine in the evening. “He has to...” He read the text and his stomach dropped. He took the compress off his head and rolled to gain purchase on the side of the tub to crawl out.

“What is it?” Blake asked.

“I need a ride. It's Lyle, from Tiger Play, that one bar. He's scared. He's caught a scent and he's sure it's an Alpha but he's too afraid to look.”

Blake grabbed her keys while he got dressed. When she turned around toward him at the door, she stopped. “Wait. Wait. No.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“No.”

“We don't have the time to argue about this. It's probably nothing but if it is something, that's why you have a gun and a set of cuffs, okay?”

Despite the fact that she didn't look at all convinced, she let him follow her to the car and they went, speeding slightly down the winding narrow roads of Pennsylvania's back country. She'd opened both the driver and passenger side windows, the wind whipping through their hair as she drove. When they pulled into the gravel lot, she looked at him with a small breath. “I feel like I'm on fire. Remind me to never get in the car with you again after this.”

He opened the door, hopping out and scanning the lot with his eyes, combing the breeze with his nose. The hot, dry wind was rippling in from the river and the gravel crunched beneath his feet while he tried to keep a line of sight with the set of dumpsters to the northeast side of the lot. Lyle's voice in front of him broke his concentration, drawing his gaze to the wide-eyed kid at the door.

“I...I scented him,” he explained before he put his hand over his nose in shock, looking between Cyrus and Blake as if they were ghosts. He wasn't at all certain what the boy was offended by more, his heat or Blake's unapologetic arousal.

“Go inside,” Cyrus ordered and was impressed when he did. He chuckled a small bit as the wind picked up. “You'd think he thought I was an Alpha, the way he responded to my voice, huh, Blake?”

She didn't answer and he turned to look at her, finding an empty space where she'd been standing.

He had to force her name from his constricting throat. “Blake?”

Without warning and without even a single scent or sound, everything was black.

 

* * *

 

That hard rumble was still present but this time when he woke, his blood was alight. His head was pounding but the pain lessened by the minute and he hazily recognized that he was alive and that he was hot. Much _much_ too hot. His own voice rang through his mind, uncertain and scared. _Blake?_ He swallowed, finding his mouth dry and his tongue feeling like it was swelled and sore. His glasses were missing. The room he was in was a dark mass of fuzz with no discernible shapes and the source of light, from what he could tell, was a red glass lantern hanging from the wooden wall. For a few minutes, it was all he could do just to breathe, trying to gain his bearings. His arms were open to his sides but unrestrained and he was naked which was fine, he supposed. If he'd been wearing anything, he would have assumed that by now, he would have been dying to take them off. His erection was straining and tight where it rested against his lower belly and that reckless heavy urge was over him.

Slowly, he raised one lethargic hand and put it on his chest, rubbing against his moist skin, moving it to his head and his hair which was soaked through with his sweat. He recognized his situation, took stock of his assets, which didn't even include his glasses—just a lantern on the wall and the thin mattress under him—and then thought wryly that he could have absolutely _killed_ for a Fanta.

_Blake?_

A small lump in his throat made him think about the way her eyes had looked when she'd told him “no” as they were leaving.

_She's got great instincts._ Keegan's voice split through his head and he remembered the way he'd smelled in the car while he was unknowingly drifting into a rut. Just the memory of it was enough to make him mindlessly slip his hand gently between his thighs and grip himself in a loose embrace. He could feel a small amount of fluid leaking from his body, soaking into the mattress under him and he very softly gave a sigh.

“Stop it,” he whispered into the hot, stale air that smelled like dirt and straw and...horses.

_I'm in a barn._

Of course he was. This was barn country. He took a deep breath and brought both his hands to his head, pulling his hair to stave off the persistent urge that felt like a fog over his cognitive function. It was that annoying, screamingly loud thing inside him that instructed him to sate himself no matter the cost and he hated it. He would have given anything to be back in Blake's tub. _Or in Keegan's bed._ He blinked a few times at the undefined ceiling above him. _Blake's_ bed, he corrected, feeling wrong. The notion stayed. In fact the fantasy started to roll in despite his efforts to black out his mind. Warmth and comfort and that needy fullness that came only from having _enough_ inside him. He gritted his teeth against the notion and didn't touch himself, gripping the sides of the mattress hard and writhing to get comfortable.

He could smell him immediately, that powerful aroma lighting his body up as a door opened and that dark presence joined him in the small room. Cyrus couldn't bring himself to be nervous or even fearful as his senses filled with that incredible masculine fragrance that drove his body wild. He could feel himself leaking even more fluid into the mattress, his blood practically boiling in his veins. He gasped, taking in large amounts of air in an attempt to calm his instinct.

“Look at you,” his captor murmured into the darkness, his quiet, deep voice cutting through Cyrus's pants and gasps. “You're in so much pain, aren't you?” The faceless dark presence rustled and his scent grew stronger and more insistent, forcing Cyrus's eyes to roll back and a guttural moan to escape the back of his throat. “I know what you want.” He was lit by the red light, on his knees at the end of the mattress and still far enough away that Cyrus's eyes couldn't define his features. His nakedness was apparent, nevertheless, and the instinctual draw of his pheromones was driving him crazy. He whispered and Cyrus could hear the smugness in it. “Come to me.”

That rumbling in his body felt less like a train and more like a raging river when he clenched his stomach and let go of a hard and long groan that sounded more like an animal than he wanted to admit. His whole body shuddered when he forced out words that could barely escape around the rigidity of his jaw.

“ _Piss. Off._ ”

The confusion was tangible and as Cyrus let out hard pants punctuated by harsh noises from his throat, the Alpha sat back on his feet and let his hands fall to his sides. It was obvious that he'd been waiting for an Omega's heat because he desperately wanted one thing. Desire. Cyrus shivered and pressed his head back in the pillow while the Alpha loomed closer, crawling forward toward him to bring his scent closer. He shut his eyes.

“You can't fight it,” he muttered, close but not touching him. Cyrus could feel his breath on his throat. “You're going to come for me.” There was a slight pause. “If you open your eyes, you'll kiss me. I can make the pain go away.” His whisper was in Cyrus's ear and the scent was so powerful, he thought he'd scream. “I'm going to make you love me.”

His thighs were forced open, splaying him out as he continued to grip the sides of the mattress so hard his hands had started to ache. Without any preparation, the Alpha lifted Cyrus's hips and pushed the head of himself against his slick entrance.

“ _No, no, no,_ ” Cyrus groaned loudly, the word gaining in volume and intensity as he continued to say it, ending in a scream as he was brutally penetrated and filled. His whole body convulsed while the scream tore through him, his rigid member jetting a stream of his cum over his chest and belly in a ripping orgasm that turned his whole world upside down. His eyes were rolling uncontrollably back into his head while he managed a long and throaty moan and the Alpha pushed harder, gripping his hips and pushing his knot against Cyrus's hole, tearing him in the relentless effort to get it through.

When the whole of it was buried within him, knot and all, he felt it swell in size while the Alpha panted in exertion and rut. His voice was husky and somewhat amused. “You're the first one to refuse to the end.”

It was at those words that the rage of the river inside Cyrus suddenly felt like it had broken through a dam. The explosion was visceral and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

_You've never met an Omega like me._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> For those who didn't read the last scene: Cyrus is in a barn with the killer and he's mad. Naked and very mad.
> 
> Comments or concerns? You know what to do. Thank you for reading and I'll see you next update.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Debatable "heavy" gore and active bleeding. About mid-way, above the cut.

The intersection was dark. There were no street lights and the four roads that converged seemed like endless stretches of curved pavement that disappeared toward the four corners of the Earth, winding through the dry, skittering corn stalks that rose around him. Blake turned to him when he got out of his car and rushed to him, her eyes swollen and wet, shining and impossibly hopeless. She flung herself at him, burying her face into his shoulder and letting out racking sobs that shook him to his soul. There was blood still coming from a cut on her lip and her swelled nose from where she'd obviously taken a hit or two. It bled into the shoulder of his t-shirt in soft flowering circles and careless smears.

“I couldn't,” she sobbed. “I lost him here. I don't know which...I don't know which _way_.” She had tried to follow, but it hadn't been easy. She'd screamed at him over the phone to hurry. There were roadblocks set up, there was every patrol available combing the back roads, and there was no sign of the dark pickup that had taken Cyrus. Her long hair was falling out of its pins, tumbling in messy locks over his shoulder. “I told him no. I told him no...”

“Shhhh,” he spoke softly into her hair despite the burning dread in his heart. “It's alright. You're okay. It's gonna be okay. We're gonna find him.”

“Keegan,” she wept, “He's _gone._ ”

He pushed her back to arm's length and suddenly the weight of the boy Omega's words hit him. _It happens sometimes. You walk down the street too late at night and nobody sees you again. Poof. Like you never even existed._ He could have fallen to his knees with the horror that the idea produced. That Cyrus could, in all actuality, be _gone._ And still, how many would grieve him? Would his death be reported as the death of a hero? A detective? Or just another Omega who was _asking_ for it? In his sudden and complete grief, he could almost smell that faint intoxicating scent that had driven him insane that morning. The scent that he'd spent hours cleaning out of the Taurus at a self-serve carwash with a raging woody.

He turned into the wind and breathed in heavy through his nose to clear out the memory but the aroma only teased him again. His car behind him, he turned around while he frowned, Blake sniffling and watching him with curiosity. He approached the car and bent to sniff the closed window.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wiping her tears with her palm.

“Scent the wind,” he told her.

She snorted. “I've been crying, fuckhead. I couldn't smell a herd of heated whores if I was in a room full of them.”

He whirled back around and lifted his face into the wind that rustled the corn and made the dry green stalks whisper across the landscape. “I can smell him. He's in the wind.”

“Bullshit,” Blake spat.

He ignored her and started running into the wind, taking huge lungfuls of the air as he went. He could hear Blake get in her Enclave and follow him, the brakes squealing lightly whenever he had to stop to let the wind pick up again. Dark, roiling, rainless clouds had amassed to the southwest and with each gust that hit him with more and more of _Cyrus_ , he could feel the tingle of electricity from heat lightning that came in distant soundless static. He ran until he could feel his chest burning from the way he pushed himself forward, punishing him for his madness.

The road curved suddenly but two dust and rock channels in the weeds marked an infrequently driven unnamed road. Keegan stared at its winding path as it led up a slight hill toward a white farmhouse and a large green barn. His ears perked and he spun toward the Enclave and barked his order.

“Cut the engine!”

She did and he didn't even have time to turn his head back around before he was running again. The unbearably hot wind was bringing more than just Cyrus's faint, delicious heat. It was bringing terrible, nightmarish _screams_.

His head was spinning when he reached the large doors to the barn and ripped them open with all his power. He could feel himself changing, his body's hidden strength snapping the thick metal locks holding the doors together with a satisfying snap. He rushed forward only to stop dead as the full force of the pained screams hit him and he watched a naked Alpha kicking and writhing on the ground at the foot of a set of stairs. He managed to get up, his red-stained hands covering his eyes while he made inhuman howls. His erect cock was coated in slick and blood and bobbed uselessly between his legs while he stumbled to the side and collided with one of the thick wooden stable doors, making the horse inside rear nervously. He was screaming while kicking out in desperation as if trying to escape an unseen threat while fresh blood seeped from under his hands.

Keegan moved around him, keeping himself oriented to face the suffering Alpha while he drew his weapon and and proceeded to slowly climb the stairs. The barn smelled heavily of Cyrus and as he climbed the stairs the air got thicker in both temperature and scent. There was a door half open and his eyes were drawn to the splatters and splotches of blood that led from it. Above the screaming, Keegan could just make out another sound emitted from the room and when he opened the door, he wasn't even sure if he was shocked at all.

Cyrus was alone, propped in the corner of the room and he was _laughing_. It was more than just a simple chuckle and as Keegan put his gun away and approached cautiously, the full force of Cyrus's heat made his member tight in his shorts, straining and full. He couldn't seem to find words and Cyrus was still laughing, his hands covered in blood and his fingers gently curled. He put his hand out to the Omega, brushing his forehead gently while Cyrus stared unseeing into nothing. He jumped when Cyrus spoke through his gentle laughter, turning his unfocused eyes to Keegan, his pupils massive and endless.

“You were right, Keegan.” He bubbled with another set of laughter. “About the sheepskin. About me.” He looked down at one of his hands and raised it up, unfurling his fingers tenderly while he laughed harder and tears started streaming down his sweat-shined cheeks. In his palm was the bloody remnant of an _eye._ “He never met an Omega like me.”

He swallowed the dryness in his throat and pulled Cyrus against him, burying his hand in the sopping short tufts of the hair on the back of his head and pressing his nose into the Omega's warm and irresistible scent. He felt himself let go of a few wet sobs while he rocked Cyrus back and forth, startled when the PI was suddenly grasping at him with his bloody hands.

“Keegan,” he gasped, “Keegan.” It was a whole statement. “Keegan?” It was a request. A desperate one.

“No,” he croaked, pushing Cyrus back before he picked him up in his arms and oriented him right so he could carry him down the stairs. “No, no. Someday. I hope,” he smiled when Cyrus gave a tired whimper, snaking his arms around Keegan's neck. He stood up straight and gritted his teeth while warm spatters of slick and blood gushed from Cyrus and down the front of his shorts, some of it soaking right into the tops of his sneakers. “Okay,” he said through his grimace. “Hospital.”

By the time the ambulance found them, Cyrus had perked up, having sucked down at least four bottles of water Blake had brought from her car. His eyes were still glazed and, wrapped in a horse blanket, he insisted on staying with his face buried in Keegan's neck, mainlining pheromones directly from his scent gland. He didn't seem to mind that Blake was watching over his abductor just a few yards away across the barn as he alternated between screaming and yelling coarsely, “The bitch took my _eyes_.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting next to Blake in the hospital waiting room, still coated in blood and slick and gathering odd stares from most of the patients and staff, he stared dazedly into nothing until they were told Cyrus was stable and asleep. Unable to go home, he slept on Blake's couch, comforted in her admission that she didn't want to be alone either. He guessed that they'd both had a similar amount of sleep when they went to the hospital together the next morning. The strong tone of Cyrus and a few other mingling heats made their experience in this particular hospital hallway uncomfortable to say the least.

As horrible as he felt, that was how unaffected Cyrus seemed despite his disheveled appearance.

“Did either of you find my glasses perchance?” he asked when they'd sat down with him. Blake slowly and wordlessly pulled them from her purse and Cyrus sighed with relief, setting them on and blinking, reclining back against the tilted bed. “I'm impressed that they let either of you in here. Usually these wings are forbidden to Alphas. Even with the light dose of suppressants, it can get overwhelming.”

Keegan yawned and managed a weary smile. “Detectives and police commissioners have the run of this place, it would seem. Listen, Cyrus, you don't have to pretend to be okay.”

“I feel fine,” he replied in an even tone. “Obviously I'm sore, that's to be expected, but I'm embarrassed to admit that I've had worse from _consensual_ intimacy. I was merely a tad dehydrated. Nothing an IV won't fix.”

Blake, her eyes rimmed in dark purple, leaned forward and delivered flatly, “Cyrus, you ripped out a man's eyes.”

“An understandable reaction,” he replied, “I said 'no' plenty of times for it be perfectly clear that what he was doing could have unwanted consequences.”

“He could have tore you limb from limb.”

“Not without any eyes,” Cyrus chuckled back, a sick little grin flashing through his features. “Deets. Spill. I know you have them.”

Keegan glanced at Blake and she handed him the file from her bag. He opened it. “Thomas Quillian, thirty-five. Previous convictions for assault against known prostitutes, a dropped rape charge in his college days, and a pretty nasty report for resisting arrest and assault on an officer for a bar fight back in March.”

“Nasty fellow.”

“Do you want to make your statement? Normally we don't...”

“Do that during a heat. I know.” He smiled and the sight of it turned Keegan into a puddle. The look he was giving Cyrus must have been apparent because Blake suddenly excused herself and wandered into the hall to give him some space.

“Cyrus, I wanted to apologize. For yesterday. In the car.”

“I heard you sniffed me out like a bloodhound,” Cyrus said, ignoring Keegan's statement entirely. “That's some detective work. I guess I was lucky I was upwind.”

“You know, you keep saying the word 'lucky' like you are. Cyrus, you—”

“Are lucky,” he finished. “And I have a very, very dedicated and talented detective to thank for rescuing me from a serial killer.”

Keegan gave him an unamused expression.

“Okay,” he grinned. “From crippling dehydration.”

They laughed together lightly and Keegan felt his cheeks get even hotter than Cyrus's heat had already made them. “It's been really nice having you here, chucklefuck. I shouldn't stay longer, the doctors will get pissed about my stinking up the joint.”

“Come here before you leave,” Cyrus beckoned and he mindlessly obeyed, allowing Cyrus to pull him into a hug. His face was buried in Cyrus's neck and he heard a soft whisper in his ear. “ _I like your stink._ ”

He inhaled deeply and groaned against the PI's throat. His erection was pulsing in his recently laundered shorts and he really didn't want to ruin them right before he had to walk through the halls to go. “Cyrus, my god, I can't stay. I'm going to cum.” Before he could get a proper response, he stumbled back and out of the room, growling harshly to Blake in the hall that they had to leave, kicking himself all they way home and further kicking himself when he got in the door and pulled himself out in the front hall, falling to his knees and pounding out an orgasm so intense it made his head spin.

While he watched the pearly strings of his cum settle where it had landed on the polished wood floor, he breathed hard and hoped to god he hadn't been wrong in hoping. _Wishing._ He gave a strangled whimper and hung his head, whispering into the still, dry air a short but heartfelt prayer for _rain_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brutal.
> 
> All you can eat, coming up. See you there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the smut chapter, the only warning is that it's so sticky sweet you could throw up.

The outside world was blurring past the train's small window and Cyrus squinted his eyes against the sun, butterflies fluttering in his stomach and an old, friendly balloon of affection swelling in his chest. He'd called Blake; he'd made every arrangement. He fiddled with a fold in his suit pants near his knee. He just hadn't told Keegan. Yet. He blinked and shifted in his seat. They'd gone on a few dates, most of them in Philly. As the weeks had wore on, Keegan had grown very used to Cyrus's PI lifestyle, and mostly how urbane it was, gilded and lined in silk and velvet. He'd been very keen to the idea when Cyrus had pulled him into a gentle but intense frenzy of wet kisses in the back of his sleek Mercedes, tugging at his expensive tie so he could bury his nose against the soft flesh of Cyrus's throat.

As keen as he was about most of it, he seemed apprehensive about _more._ This puzzled Cyrus and he thought on it frequently, finally attributing it to the unique Alpha attribute of putting responsibility where it ought not be placed. Keegan, despite all of the admonishments, had become protective in the most subversive of ways. He was _convinced_ that in having sex with Cyrus, especially during a heat, he was no better than the man who had last taken advantage. _This_ was why Cyrus was sitting on the train to Lancaster. Because every time he tried to bring up the possibility of sharing his next heat with the impossibly cute younger, detective, he'd been stonewalled. _Well_ , he thought, _no more._

The sun was still hours from dipping below the skyline and Blake sent him a text as he was in the train station telling him that Keegan was going home. The word itself, _home_ , had meant so many different things in his life but the thought of the old, musty house that was filled with memory, lit by oil, and fit Keegan like a glove made Cyrus warm in his gut. He was so ready to be held in Keegan's _den_ and he hoped he would have his way, unwilling to consider the idea of push-back. He wouldn't have any Alpha assume they knew what was in his best interest. Ever.

It only took the taxi nine minutes to drop him off at the end of the drive and he walked with his travel bag behind him, still feeling those little butterflies in his stomach when he climbed the porch and pressed the old doorbell. It chimed faintly through the door while cicadas whirred across the countryside and Cyrus admired the work Keegan had done in repainting the porch banisters and posts. A two-person swing was sitting against the house, waiting to be hung and the butterflies inside him moved to his chest.

_God, I haven't been so giddy since Mel._

The door opened and when Keegan didn't immediately smile, Cyrus swallowed, his butterflies faltering. He straightened his back and bit his bottom lip to steel himself. He was too old to be acting like a kid.

“Cyrus,” Keegan said, the edge of his mouth twitching, “I wasn't... Did I forget that you were coming?”

“No. I wanted to surprise you. I hope I haven't interrupted anything. I was hoping that we could talk about a small favor you could do for me.”

Keegan nodded and guided him inside. “Is it a case?” He eyed Cyrus's bag. “You're staying here?”

He faced Keegan in the front hall and blurted, “I came with the intention of talking about how much time I would like to spend with you in the future. I know it's only been two months or so but I had to spend my last heat alone in an ice bath and although I don't particularly mind that, it rather irks me that I could have been somewhere else.” He cleared his throat and met Keegan's blank expression with conviction. “With you. It would be preferable, I'm sure you understand. I've tried to bring it up over dinner or drinks but I found that directness is required. Which is why I'm here.”

Keegan's face was still blank when he'd finished rambling. He could tell that the man was clearly befuddled. His response threw Cyrus into a tizzy. “So, you wanna stay the weekend?”

“No,” he found his voice raising. “I want to stay the _week_.”

Keegan's face suddenly reacted with his recognition and his cheeks flushed. “Cyrus, why don't we talk about this over dinner? I've got some stuff to make shrimp scampi, I can make dinner and we can talk.”

“That is precisely what I'm here for,” he sighed, toeing out of his shoes and leaving them by the door while he padded into the kitchen. He was annoyed to find himself still nervous. Keegan couldn't be that much of a madman to still be thinking about refusal but there was a chance that his deflection was forthcoming; that he would unintentionally sabotage himself for the sake of being _protective_. That was one thing Cyrus would most definitely not allow.

He took his bag up the stairs without bothering to wait for Keegan's permission or invitation, following his nose until he was in Keegan's bedroom where he openly admired the mahogany bed frame and thick, puffy navy blue counterpane. He tossed the bag toward the closet and looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't watched before he picked up the Alpha's pillow and buried his face in it, thrilled to his toes at the scent infused into it. Oh no. He wasn't going home. Not before he had wrung every bit of that boy's cum out of his body. With renewed vigor, he went back down the stairs and poured himself a glass of wine while Keegan skirted around him anxiously, preparing to make dinner.

The sun was low and the plates were empty an hour later while they sat on the deck in the orange light. Cyrus was sipping his second glass of wine. He started in on the fact of the matter, shocking Keegan out of the comfortable smalltalk he'd been relying on thus far.

“I want you to be with me this week. I want to be here. With you. If that's not possible, I will not be spending my time in a bath with a toy and manufactured pheromones.”

Keegan visibly swallowed. “Cyrus, I—”

“I will not be accepting a refusal. I'm going to be going into heat in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours and seeming as we've been _very_ close over the past twelve weeks, I see no reason for you to turn me down. I don't want to talk about this when I'm throwing myself at you so I need an answer so I can tell Blake to come pick me up if that's what you want. But it had _better_ not be 'no.'”

Keegan swallowed again. “Cyrus...”

“Stop. Just say 'yes.'”

“Yes.”

He drew up, satisfied. “I'm glad we came to an agreement.”

“Is that what that was?” Keegan was snickering. “I'll gladly spend the week with you. If you're sure that's what you want.”

“Of course it is,” he explained. “I...” He softened. “I'm not very good at being very emotional. At least not _now_ , but I had something else I wanted to tell you before I get fever-brain and you can't take me as seriously as I want to be taken.”

Keegan put his feet up on an extra chair. “That is?”

“I'm in love with you.”

For the first time that night, Keegan fully smiled and let go an incredulous laugh. “Cyrus. The tenacious detective. Chucklefuck from Philly.” His voice lowered into an affectionate tone. “The man I wanna spend the rest of my life with.” His eyes flashed possessively and his teeth bared in his emphatic smile. Cyrus could barely breathe. “I like the sound of that.”

“Do...do you mean that?” He thought he could feel the slight prick of tears behind his eyes and he blinked them way.

Keegan laughed again. “I don't say things I don't mean. Bring your wine, I'm taking you upstairs. Hell,” he snickered, “bring the bottle.”

He found himself trying to stand still while Keegan slowly, teasingly untied his tie, slipping it out from under his collar and pressing the warmed fabric against his nose before he tossed it toward Cyrus's bag, turning back to gently work at the buttons on his silk vest and after that was gone, the small buttons on his shirt near his throat. He sipped at his wine and watched, tickled and flushed, stating warmly, “It's a good thing I didn't wait to come, this was a very expensive outfit and I fear I would not have been so patient.”

“My lord,” Keegan muttered, rolling his eyes. “I can't wait until all you can say is my name.” With that said, he peeled Cyrus's shirt from his shoulders and made quick work of his undershirt, his warm hands sliding over Cyrus's now naked shoulders, collarbones, and chest, sweeping down to his hips and pressing him forward against him, their hips about level. He took his t-shirt off and allowed Cyrus to touch him with his free hand, his head rolling backward as he enjoyed the feeling of fingertips roving over his skin.

Cyrus leaned forward and kissed him, his lips soft and yielding with none of the expected dominance. He felt elated and nearly dizzy with the giddiness he hid inside, the part of him that was still a boy despite his years. When he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue easily past Keegan's barriers, he gave a sigh while warm hands kneaded the tight muscles in his back, urging him closer, pressing them together intimately. Remembering that he was still holding his wine, he broke away to sip it, ignoring Keegan's again incredulous laughter. As amusing as he found it, the Alpha slid downward, kneeling and taking no time to remove both Cyrus's slacks and underwear, baring him to the hot breeze that was lazily rolling in through the open window.

Without any hesitation, Keegan took him into his mouth and Cyrus hissed, his grip tightening around his wine glass, his other hand stroking and petting Keegan's hair while the hot, wet sensation sent small shocks of pleasure radiating into his body. With a shaking hand, he set his glass down, unsure when the last time he'd been in this particular situation had been and increasingly certain that he would have liked for it to happen much more often. He inadvertently opened his mouth when Keegan forced more of him down his throat and bobbed his head, sliding his lips and tongue over the velvety flesh, coating him in saliva and warmth. He made soft humming sounds in his throat, deep and resonating that made Cyrus curl his still-socked toes against the hard polished wood floor, his lungs tightening and his hands still grasping through Keegan's short hair.

“Please,” he breathed while Keegan worked him hard and heavy, making wet, sensual sounds along with those deep appreciative hums that were slowly killing him. “Please. I need to cum.”

Keegan let go of him, replacing his mouth with his hand only long enough to offer his response. “That _is_ the goal, here, I'll have you know.” After the statement, he devoured Cyrus again and drove him forward, his Alpha pheromones infusing the room, the scent of his incredible arousal sending Cyrus shuddering over the edge, his fingers pulling while he released, his body forcing out at least two small grunts while he did so.

When he looked down, he let out another unintentional breathy tone as Keegan made a soft gulping sound. He grinned and laughed a little breathlessly, his heart pounding. “I think I fancy seeing you down there.”

Keegan pressed his lips against Cyrus's inner thigh, his breath washing over the tender spot while he kissed it as though worship was the only thought in his mind. When he stood up, he picked Cyrus up and dumped him on the bed easily, grabbing Cyrus's glass and handing it to him as he lay naked save for his socks and propped up by Keegan's pillows. He then shoved down his jeans and boxers, his impressive length popping up from its prison.

“You must have been popular,” Cyrus noted not without a small amount of pride.

Keegan chuckled at the compliment and crawled onto the bed with him, straddling him so that he could sit back on Cyrus's thighs, lined up so he could grasp them both at the same time. “You need a minute?” he asked in a husky voice as he stroked the both of them together, Cyrus half-erect and shining with saliva.

“I may.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah,” Cyrus murmured, “You can bring that cannon closer to my face.”

Keegan laughed almost too hard to scootch himself up the bed to bring himself closer, the remnants of his laughter fading while Cyrus teased the tip of him with his bottom lip, taking a sip of cold wine before licking the slit with the flat of his tongue.

“Uhn,” Keegan protested, “You fuck.”

He chuckled while he took what he could into his mouth and held his breath to force it down further than was probably prudent. The girth of it was enough that he knew he was never going to be able to take it long enough for Keegan to cum before his jaw became too sore so he pulled it out, the strings of his spit drifting between his lips and the tip breaking as he went to work with one hand. He continued his work, alternating between his hand and his mouth, taking sweet sips of his wine every so often, ecstatic to find that Keegan could reach the wine bottle on the bedside table to fill his glass while he sucked and lapped hungrily.

Finally, Keegan made a sharp breath in and whispered, “I'm gonna cum. Cyrus, I'm gonna.”

He dove in, holding his breath again and forcing it deep in his throat while his hand caressed and tugged the swelled knot at the base, bobbing hard until he could feel the warm coursing of fluid in his mouth and throat and he backed off, enjoying the pulse of Keegan's member in his mouth. He closed his lips as Keegan pulled away and put the rim of his wine glass against the bottom and spit the thick liquid into the wine.

“Hey,” Keegan frowned, shaken into silence when Cyrus proceeded to take the contents of the glass in one swallow, knocking it back and putting the glass down on the bedside table with a satisfied click of his tongue. The Alpha merely stared at the glass where it sat and Cyrus smiled.

“What?”

“I guess nothing.” He crawled his way off the bed and turned to face the older Omega. “The shower isn't big but we could fit the both of us if you don't mind a little company.” He shrugged, “Aside from that, I'd really like to get you naked.”

Cyrus wiggled his toes in his socks. “Can't fault you that.”

After their shower and plenty of fondling and laughter, they eventually fell asleep, tucked against each other intimately, their naked bodies comfortably tangled under the sheet. Around three in the morning, Cyrus was gently stirred into wakefulness by the sound of the light translucent curtains around the window rasping against the wood of the bedside table. He squinted through the dark and realized that the wind had picked up. The breeze was uncharacteristically cool and it felt incredible as it washed over his fevered skin. He turned onto his back under the thin sheet and watched the rippling cotton as it sailed with the wind, distant lightning reflecting off the white fabric. He closed his eyes and tried to drift back to sleep but opened them again as quiet thunder rolled across the arid fields and woke him completely. He stared at the window and took in deep breaths of the breeze, grateful for its coolness and the ever-elusive promise for rain.

Keegan's hand reached out and slid across Cyrus's belly, the sudden touch exhilarating, awakening his senses. He turned his head toward his still slumbering lover, watching him scent in his sleep, his nostrils flaring and his brows twitching as he did so. His pheromones were in high gear and as Cyrus drifted closer to him to scent him, his body felt suddenly filled with energy, his mind cleared from all sleep. Amused, he took Keegan's wrist and slid the heavy weight of his hand up to his chest, over his heart. The Alpha's heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open and he took in a sleepy breath.

“Oh,” he sighed toward Cyrus, stretching his arm until he could grasp the Omega by the shoulder and slide him across the bed into a tight bear-hug with the purpose of burying his face into the side of his neck. “Oh,” he whispered, his warm breath against Cyrus's ear, producing more than just goosebumps. He pressed a soft kiss to Cyrus's temple and gently turned the PI's head so he could drink in gentle short kisses, the quiet sound of them all that filled Cyrus's mind before another roll of distant thunder reminded him that the world still existed around them.

Cyrus could feel his heart beating harder, the smell of Keegan here with him pulling him closer to that common eagerness that he often had cursed in the past. Now, he welcomed it, wanting Keegan's everything but mostly his touch and mostly _everywhere._ He groaned against his lovers lips, taking his hand again and guiding it to his chest and belly, rubbing his palm forcefully back and forth until the Alpha took the hint and began the action himself, providing a heavy touch that dragged over his heated flesh. He sighed and shivered in pleasure when Keegan paid extra special attention to his nipple, circling with a teasing finger before gently pinching and tugging. The Alpha shifted to hover in the dark, his mouth replacing those errant fingers, suckling and flicking while his hands coursed over the rest of Cyrus's arched body.

Keegan was tentative. So much so that Cyrus began to think that perhaps his own scent wasn't strong enough, that he was almost unaffected. The anxious thought was quelled when a white flash of lightning streaked over the Alpha's face and Cyrus was able to see the absolute focus he was holding, the pained expression that reassured Cyrus that there was just one thread holding him from descending into a full mindless rut. He was valiantly making the effort to stave it off in the name of proper foreplay. Cyrus's heart filled but as soon as Keegan touched him between his thighs, he lost all of his concentration, bucking his hips and throwing his head back into the pillow with a loud animal cry. Keegan dipped his fingers lower, tracing against Cyrus just enough to get a generous bit of slick on his fingers before he wrapped them around Cyrus's stiffened member, stroking leisurely until the Omega gave a strangled yelp, spilling his first round of seed on his belly.

With the flat of his tongue, the Alpha lapped up the expulsion and after, gave a strange growl. He brought his face down, nose to nose with the shivering Omega. “I want you so badly, Cyrus. I don't want to hurt you. I might not...” he paused to take a huge breath and another flash of lightening revealed his wild eyes and widened pupils. “I might not be able to stop.”

Cyrus shuddered hard at the words, gasping audibly at how utterly aroused they made him. For everything he wished he could have said, there was only one thing that could spill from his lips. “Keegan.” It was meant to be a statement.

The Alpha growled, his eyes rolling back before he bodily flipped Cyrus onto his stomach and forced his ass up, his tongue suddenly lapping hard against his entrance while Cyrus let go of loud, desperate sounds and pushed against that exploratory heat. He thrilled at the way Keegan ran the tip of his tongue hard around the rim of him and opened him with his mouth, letting the welling slick gush from the sides of his lips, coursing down Cyrus's thighs in rivulets of arousal. When he'd had enough, he straightened on his knees and pushed Cyrus to the right height.

The Omega could feel the tip against his hole and he leaned back. “Keegan,” he gasped. He was pressed into slowly, his body accepting the swelled member into it with grace. Inch after inch was buried inside him until he was overcome and felt himself cum again, spilling over the sheets as thunder drowned out his thoughts and the front of the storm charged into the window, violently fluttering the curtains as the wind rushed around them. As the thunder dissipated he cried out, pushing back until he could feel the swell of Keegan's knot against his stretched opening. “ _Keegannn—ahn._ ” With fervor, he helped the Alpha thrust, easing into a rhythm of rocking back and forward, his body racked with pulses of pleasure he'd waited much too long to indulge in. He gasped and sighed as he rocked, his hands grasping until he had pulled every pillow to his chest, burying his head in them to inhale the lusty scent of his lover.

Keegan's body was suddenly curled over him, still rocking and thrusting while he lowered his lips to the back of Cyrus's neck, taking long, deep breaths while he panted hard from exertion. The Alpha's voice was low in his ear, the pitch of it tightening Cyrus's stomach and erection. “I need you, Cyrus. I want to make you _mine._ ”

He let his eyes roll while he was pounded from behind and, as another wave of intense pleasure hit him, he moaned and managed his stumbling response. “I..I-I...I want...t-to be yuh-yours.” He felt Keegan grip his hips and still him, pulling him back slowly and steadily, stretching him tight before releasing him forward and pulling him back again, easing him open more each time until he could push the bulk of the knot inside. His lower jaw was shuddering uncontrollably and he had to push hard to get words from his throat. “K-Keegan. Make me _yours_.”

He took a sharp intake of breath when he felt Keegan's sharp teeth bare down into him, burning as they drew blood and marked him for the first time, even after all these years. He wasn't even sure if there was anything left that could come out of him but he came nonetheless, clenching hard around Keegan's solid cock, moaning deeply as he felt a warmth spreading inside him. Keegan pressed his body down over him and very slightly jerked forward with his hips as waves of his orgasm washed over him and drained him completely.

Sated and filled with cum, Cyrus relaxed and allowed Keegan to roll with him until he was on his side, still locked together and wrapped in powerful Alpha arms, enclosed in the comfortable and intoxicating aroma of sex and _Keegan_.

As his eyelids became heavy and the dark invited him into the world of dreams, Cyrus drifted off to the sound of pattering rain falling in heavy, full drops from a rumbling sky.

 

* * *

  

Keegan had brought him a full pitcher around six in the morning. He'd sucked it all down and they'd fucked at least twice before making it down the stairs where Keegan could make them both breakfast and Cyrus, finally relieved of his latest urge, could stand naked with his nose against the screen door so the cool September rain could spray him if the breeze was kind.

“I guess we're just going to be naked for a few days, huh?” Keegan asked and he laughed when Cyrus only gave him a satyr's grin. The Alpha approached while the sausage sizzled in the pan and came behind his lover, pressing their bodies together and inhaling. His touch that brushed the tender broken flesh at his neck made Cyrus jump. “Is this what you wanted, Cyrus? Did I do something wrong last night?”

Cyrus turned and pulled Keegan to press his forehead against the Alpha's, speaking very clearly. “You did exactly what I wanted you to do. If I could do it back to you, I would.” He placed a kiss on Keegan's lips, sweet and certain. “You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. I don't wanna just be the chucklefuck from Philly. Don't you dare go south on me. I wanna be yours. I _am_ yours. My love. My life. My water. _My_ _rain._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnngh. 
> 
> And that's that. Thanks for reading, if you liked the story, if you liked the smut, or if you hated it all, don't forget to leave a comment so I know. If you'd like to see more like this, let me know what you'd like to see in another story and I can work on pulling literary elements together to create something new. 
> 
> Ciao.


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